Darkened Skies
by thewaterfalcon
Summary: They're both fighting; him in clear sight, and she with everything she's ever known.
1. The Game

_This is a rewritten, re-edited, (hopefully) improved version of the first fanfiction I ever wrote. This story, and the journey it began for me, is everything to me, and Darkened Skies houses my heart and soul. In fact, this is probably the closest I'll come to creating a horcrux._

 _Taking the leap into fanfiction gave me so much more than I could ever have dreamed, and I don't think I'll ever be able to truly express my gratitude and love for all I have, all thanks to the fact I started writing this little tale about one misunderstood Slytherin, and the lion who became her everything._

 _This was what started the journey to meeting my best friends, being able to create a home for myself in a world I always looked in on from the sidelines and gave me the creative outlet I had no clue how much I needed._

 _Darkened Skies started as a tiny idea when all I knew of fanfic was popular pairings I couldn't relate to; it was_ my _but, what if?_

 _This story developed and grew my Pansy, the same Pansy I've now written in a multitude of scenarios I could never have imagined when I started this. It's not a secret that she's my favourite character, but without DS I wouldn't have the her that I'm known for, but this, where it all began, is my truest and the rawest version of her, and I hope you love her._

* * *

If a scene is entirely italicised, it is a flashback.

Both Freyja Greengrass and Tula originally came from my friend Avis1765, from a story she is no longer writing, I asked her permission to use these names and utilise these two characters as my own

Please do be aware that the following subject matter appears in this story: sexual situations, violence, torture, sexual assault and alcoholism. During the chapter where the sexual assault takes place, there is an A/N with a link to a censored, alternate version of the scene, with the exception of this, I will not be providing warnings throughout the story. This story is meant for mature readers only and is rated as such.

* * *

 _Acknowledgements:_

 _oblivionbaby , for believing in this story from the beginning. Thank you for the time and effort you gave it. You taught me a lot about being a writer and I'm so grateful this granted me your friendship. _

_RooOJoy , I don't quite know how to express how much I love and appreciate you. Thank you for wanting to be a part of Darkened Skies. This story is better because of you. You've never not believed in me and you've never doubted me, you're one of my best friends in the entire galaxy and if all DS ever gave me was your friendship, then it'll have given me so much more than I could ever have imagined._

 _JEPierre , every list of thanks I make will probably always include you. Thank you for loving this story and for encouraging my Pansy. Thank you for everything you do as my best friend, soul sister and wife! Thank you for asking me to create that little ol' group just for rare pairs, that has grown bigger than either of us could possibly dream. You support me every single day and I'll never be able to tell you how much you mean to me._

 _Habababa , thank you for following everything I write. Every review and comment you've ever left me means the whole world. I love that you let DS into your life and I love that you're now a permanent fixture in mine. I love you, you beautiful broccoli, please never change. _

_SandraSempra , I don't know how we became so close, so fast, but you don't know how happy I am to have you in my life. Thank you for making me decide to change the side pairing in this and for giving the fandom the Millie it deserves. You are a breath of fresh air and I need you to know how much I love that you make me laugh every single day._

 _To all of the members of Fairest_ _, for giving me a place in this fandom I feel at home. Thank you for accepting us at our most vulnerable, and for loving us at our craziest._

 _& to you,  reader_ _. Thank you for reading, if you read the entire story, or just stay for a few chapters, or one, please know that I value you so, so much._

 _Love, thewaterfalcon_

.

* * *

Part One | Strike the Match

 **.**

One. _The Game_

* * *

Absentmindedly, she petted the owl's head as she removed the scroll, which was wound tightly and bore the all too familiar wax seal of Hogwarts and she watched, a slight frown present upon her pale face as the barn owl began its descent towards the window. She had been waiting for the letter to appear and yet its arrival, combined with the knowledge that not only was the school's headmaster no more, but the overwhelming and unmissable number of unnerving changes that had been taking place around the entirety of the Wizarding World made the school's seal seem achingly familiar and yet entirely different, all at once.

 _Dear Ms Parkinson,_

 _Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King's Cross Station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o'clock._

 _I would also like to offer my congratulations as you have been selected as Head Girl; your new badge is enclosed.  
You will be expected in the Prefects' carriage of the Hogwarts Express no later than ten past eleven to meet with the new Head Boy and greet the new and existing Prefects. As you are aware, patrols for the new school year begin aboard the train._

 _A list of books for next year is enclosed._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Professor M. McGonagall_

Pansy blinked before re-reading the letter. _Head Girl?_ She stared at the two words written before her. _Is this a joke? Must be a joke. Merlin, is Granger dead?_

"Pansy?" Pansy started. Her eyes flashed to her mother's face before scanning her letter once more. "Pansy!" Lilith Parkinson repeated, her voice steely. "You look as though you've seen a ghost."

 _I have! Granger's!_

"I'm Head Girl," Pansy answered, a tad blunter than she had intended as her eyes scanned over the letter again.

Lilith appeared to poorly imitate a smile, the corners of her mouth were raised slightly, but her lips remained in a poker straight line. "I know."

"I don't- what?"

"Pansy, things are going to be vastly improved this year for you with that bearded maniac finally," Lilith paused, her gaze unreadable, "deceased."

Pansy dropped her attention to her palm and shook the envelope which had contained her letter and found, just as promised, her new badge. 'Head Girl' was emblazoned in silver on a background of Slytherin green. She became vaguely aware that her mother was still talking.

"-more than happy to accommodate your wish to become Head Girl."

"What?" Pansy asked, bluntly. She was fairly certain she had never expressed any such wish to anyone, let alone her mother. "Who? What are you talking about?"

Lilith inhaled deeply through her nose, her eyes closed and when she began to talk again she did so slowly, emphasising each syllable. "Amycus and Alecto," Lilith enunciated, taking another breath, this time closer to a sigh than anything else.

 _The first thing she's said to me this week, and she's bored already_. Pansy narrowed her eyes and sighed back, her demeanour defensive.

"As I was saying, they are old friends of your father and they, along with Severus, will be ensuring Hogwarts is far more efficiently ran."

"So, I'm only Head Girl because my father asked these-"

"Carrows."

Pansy blinked. "What the hell is a carrow?"

"Amycus Carrow. Alecto CARROW!" Lilith's tone had sharpened and the volume of her voice had increased tenfold. Pansy could see her mother's patience had all but departed. _Good._ Pansy rolled her eyes.

"The letter is still from McGonagall," Pansy mumbled, distracted, once more, by the parchment still clutched between her fingertips.

"What's that?" Lilith's tone was sharp.

"The letter. It's still signed by McGonagall."

"Mmm, well that's unsurprising, the Carrows were never particularly studious from what I remember."

Pansy snorted. "It's a good job they aren't in charge of my studies then."

Lilith pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index finger, her eyes closing as she let out yet another sigh. "Oh, Pansy, do stop being dramatic, it's awfully exhausting."

 _Dramatic?_ Pansy's mouth opened, the Slytherin intent on answering Lilith back, when the tense exchange between mother and daughter was brought to a stark standstill with the hearth on the opposing wall lighting up in a billowing of bright green flame which, once subsided, revealed a pale, dark-haired and sallow-skinned figure. Pansy took a deep breath and steadied herself for the greater argument she predicted would be imminent.

Cassius Parkinson stepped from the hearth, brushing the front of his robes with the back of his fingers as he did, his eyes, a deep, deep brown colour that was so dissimilar from Pansy's own, bright green iris', swept the vicinity of the room.

"Your daughter is Head Girl of Hogwarts," Lilith rattled off, her tone irate, before Pansy had any chance to speak. "And it would _seem_ to me that she couldn't be more ungrateful for that if she tried."

 _Oh, fuck you!_

Pansy crossed her arms, awaiting her father's response. Cassius raised an eyebrow, his eyes meeting Pansy's for a short second before he turned his attention almost entirely, to a nearby drinks cabinet. "Congratulations, Pansy."

 _He almost sounds like he means it._ Pansy, taken aback by the lack of snap in her father's tone, watched him march towards the black, glassy cabinet. Her mouth had opened and her eyes were narrowed in suspicion; even the short amount of time that he'd been in their presence was enough to show Pansy that her father was acting entirely out of character. She knew how it would _usually_ have gone, Pansy recalled a dozen separate scenarios where he, Cassius, had asked Lilith for more of her, usually exaggerated, information on Pansy's misgivings. The details Lilith provided would usually be used by Cassius to berate his daughter further than Lilith had already done. The lack of this usual parenting tactic had caught Pansy off guard, and she took a step towards him, manoeuvring her body so she no longer had to see her mother's face.

"Thanks. Uh…" she stammered, "how was your day?"

This time, her father's eyes did not meet her own, not even for a short second. Instead, Cassius fixated his look somewhere level with Pansy's shoulder, to nothing in particular. "Busy. The new Muggle-Born Registration Act is now in place."

 _Gods, that was for real!?_

"What happens if a Muggle-Born doesn't register?" For the second time that afternoon Pansy's thoughts drifted, fleetingly, to Hermione Granger.

"They get taught a lesson."

"What sort of lesson?"

Pansy watched as Cassius regarded her, his expression unreadable. She shifted her own features into the typical look of defiance she so often saved just for her parents.

Sighing deeply into his newly acquired glass of firewhisky, Cassius unsuccessfully attempted to hide a smirk, a look of reminiscent pleasure crawling across his pale face as he spoke. "That the Dark Lord does not take kindly to those who oppose him." He continued, "Nothing for you to worry about, our blood is as pure as they come, you know that." Pansy's eyes followed the flecks of light that bounced across the surface of her father's whisky.

"It wasn't me I was thinking about," Pansy murmured. It was a raw statement that came from someplace deep inside Pansy that held no word of a lie. Hearing the words emanate from her own mouth had surprised even herself. Compassion towards Muggle-borns was not a sentiment Pansy had ever expressed, nor, if she were to be entirely honest with herself, particularly thought of before. Yet, nonetheless, as the faces of numerous others from her year washed across Pansy's mind, Hermione Granger featuring annoyingly prominently, Pansy knew it was one of the most real sentences she had ever said aloud. "Do you agree with the Act?" Pansy asked.

Cassius regarded his daughter. "My stance on the matter is irrelevant. This is the game we must play, Pansy," he stated, nonchalantly.

"The game we must play," Pansy repeated her father's words. The agreement of the Muggle Registration Act, and whatever _lessons_ awaited those forced to register didn't seem like any kind of game Pansy wished to play.

"Precisely."

 _The only difference being, you look as though it's a game you_ want _to play._


	2. Special

**.**

* * *

Part One | Strike the Match

.

Two. _Special_

* * *

 _Tick.  
Tock.  
Tick.  
Tock._

The timepiece showed it was half past four, and the few faint streaks of light through the curtains signaled that dawn was fast approaching. Pansy yawned, she'd seen every hour of the night come and promptly go, both her desire and ability to slumber apparently having long since deserted her. She'd lain in bed for what she now realised was close to six full hours; tossing, turning, and imagining - she had clock-watched, attempted to read, and she'd cried. In fact, Pansy frowned, sleeping was really one of the only activities she _hadn't_ managed to get through that night.

The witch sighed heavily through her nose. It was no secret Pansy wasn't the biggest fan of Muggle-borns. She had never taken any steps, nor made any efforts to hide that fact. " _Slytherin!"_ The sorting hat had called within seconds of being placed on her head at her Sorting Ceremony, and Pansy had openly smirked at the hat's revelation. She was a pure-blood, going where pure-bloods _should_ go. She was Sacred Twenty-Eight. She was a Parkinson.

" _We're special Pansy, we've always been special, and we will_ always _be special."_

Pansy didn't feel special anymore. She still felt a superiority over Muggle-borns, didn't she? Granger, who for some unbeknownst reason had, yet again, crept into the forefront of Pansy's subconscious, was the smartest in her year. Pansy scrunched up her nose and rolled her eyes to no one at the thought. _Still don't have to like her._ She _didn't_ like Granger, and she'd be willing to bet a lot of gold she never would. Yet, she knew she couldn't agree with the _lessons_ that awaited the witch, and all those like her. _Let's face it,_ she thought dryly, _they'll be 'taught lessons'...or worse, whether they 'register' or not._

For the first time in her life, Pansy Parkinson questioned what being from a Sacred Twenty-Eight family truly meant.

Her conclusion was fairly simplistic. _It means I will probably avoid pointless torture._ She furthered her thoughts. _Nothing. It means absolutely fuck all._

Pansy had never felt less special.

* * *

She made the decision in a split second, and in only a few short minutes she was standing in the centre of her room, fully clothed. In spite of her hair being scraped back in a clumsy ponytail and her face unwashed, Pansy felt surprisingly energetic considering her lack of sleep. Grabbing her wand, she padded the length of her room and quickly exited into the adjacent corridor. Walking softly through the house, Pansy's thoughts screamed just as loud as her heart thumped.

The darkness and the shadows didn't unnerve her, and neither did the tapping on a nearby window, which she knew was caused by an old cherry tree. She wasn't startled when an owl hooted from the garden, or by the pop of an unseen pipe closeby. Pansy revelled in all things nighttime and would choose a deserted, midnight landscape over almost any other. She felt at home, and calm, in the dark of the early hours. Pansy's mouth twitched at the owl's second hoot as she furthered her passage through the large house.

What _did_ put Pansy on edge, instantly, however, was the very loud and out of place creak, that echoed around her and raised every hair on Pansy's neck. It took only a few seconds for Pansy, wand grasped tightly as she frowned into the dark hallway, to realise it had originated from a floorboard situated in the room directly in front of her. Luckily the door to said room, Cassius's study, was closed.

Pansy held her breath as she suddenly became aware that a definite murmur of voices had began to radiate from the direction of the study. Creeping closer, Pansy was able to identify her father's dry tone, and another, not immediately recognisable - but seemed to hold an odd familiarity to it.

Reaching her side of the door in a crouch as quickly as she dared, even in spite of the hasty cushioning charm she'd whispered to quiet her steps as much as possible, the conversation became entirely audible.

"Of course, it is only a matter of waiting one more year, less even, ten months."

Pansy only just managed to stifle a gasp of realisation. She knew that voice. _What the hell is Rabastan Lestrange doing in my house at half four in the fucking morning?_

"Indeed." Cassius replied. "As long as you're happy with our arrangement still, I'm sure you can find a Muggle slave-whore or two to fill your time between now and then."

 _Well, thanks for that mental image, father._

"Ha!" Rabastan clapped his hands. "You read my mind Cass, old boy!"

"Not a particularly difficult feat, Lestrange. Oh, whilst I have you here, did you locate that family in Leicester?"

"Yes."

Goosebumps rising on her arms, Pansy could _feel_ Rabastan's smirk as an involuntary shiver took over her body at his tone.

"And?" Cassius pressed.

"They will...not be...an issue."

Cassius did not answer immediately, yet when he did, his voice sounded entirely calm. "Good. Any difficulties?"

"Other than the daughter's cry being one of the most irksome sounds I've ever had the misfortune to be subjected to, no."

"I assume this _irksome_ crying was dealt with quickly?"

"Of course."

The conversation had apparently reached its end. Pansy heard papers being gathered, glasses placed down and eventually, the unmistakable crackling of fire.

"You'll be at the meeting tonight?" Pansy heard Cassius enquire.

"I will. I shall see you then."

There were no exchanges of farewell. Pansy heard the footsteps, Rabastan's, move a few steps, before he murmured an address and the unmistakable whooshing sound of her father's floo informed Pansy that the Death Eater had left the premises.

A further set of footsteps, belonging to who Pansy could only assume was her father, began to make their way closer to the door, a door that Pansy was currently pressed up against. A situation she guessed would not go down particularly well with Cassius, were he to find her there.

Pansy managed to dodge into the kitchen and run, as quietly as she could manage, to the back door. Once outside, Pansy realised she was panting heavily as a heavy feeling of nausea coursed its way through her. She _knew_ her father wasn't a particularly nice man. He was neither gentle nor kind in ways she had seen other fathers be. _But the way he was talking, he didn't just sound like a bastard, he sounded like an evil bastard._ Who had the family from Leicester been? How old was the girl with the irksome scream? Rabastan was bad news, even to families like the Parkinson's; the Lestrange's were on a whole different level.

A truth Pansy was not expecting hit her like a ton of bricks.

 _That's why he'd been out four nights a week, constant meetings, 'business lunches'._ Pansy gasped, she'd _heard_ him ask Rabastan if he was going to _the meeting._

His words from earlier that day presented themselves to the front of Pansy's mind, as though summoned. " _That the Dark Lord does not take kindly to those that oppose him."_

 _Dark Lord_. Pansy's eyes widened in the dark. Not a normal meeting, none of them have been normal meetings. _Death Eater Meeting_.

 _I am so fucking stupid._

Her legs seemed to know what they needed to do without instruction. Pansy walked, tears blurring her vision, tears that threatened to erupt from her in loud, full on sobs.

She felt herself walk into something, a big something. A big _hairy_ something.

MOOOOOOOO!

 _My father is a Death Eater, and I just walked into a cow._


	3. Smells Like Summer

.

* * *

Part One | Strike the Match

Three. _Smells Like Summer_

* * *

Arriving back from her very early, sporadic jaunt to the cow field, Pansy sat on the edge of her bed. She took a deep breath and allowed her upper body to fall backwards, feeling the springs bounce beneath her head. Closing her eyes, she attempted, for what felt like the millionth time that night, _or morning now,_ she supposed, to take stock of her thoughts.

 _I'm Head Girl - fucking hell!_

 _I have a Death Eater for a father - fucking fuck!_

 _Pretty sure I now smell like cow - fucking yuck!_

Shifting her weight to her elbows, Pansy hoisted herself up slightly, her eyes moving to her window as she reached for the wand in her pocket.

Closing her eyes, Pansy focused her mind; thinking the spell in the most direct way she could muster. She opened her eyes and stared, unblinking, at the window.

"Alohomora." The window's lock fell open, and Pansy smiled, realising she had managed to non-verbally open the window about an inch. Initially, Pansy had planned on throwing herself back onto the bed once more, however, a familiar scent reached her nostrils, distracting her and pushing the majority of her current misgivings to the back of her mind.

 _It smells like summer._

* * *

" _It's summer now, Mummy! It's really summer!"_

" _Yes, Pansy."_

" _No, Mummy. It's s-u-mmer! It_ smells like summer _."_

" _Mmmhmmm."_

 _Pansy swayed on the edges of her feet and rolled her head from side to side, her face the picture of expectation; eyes round, two teeth missing from her wide grin. She watched, mouth slowly closing as her mother turned and walk away._

" _But, it smells like summer..." Pansy trailed off and tried hard to hold back the tears she was already aware had started to gather in her eyes._ A face with tears is not a pretty one _. Shaking her head fiercely, Pansy did her best to abide by her mother's so often said mantra._

 _Taking a deep breath, Pansy turned to her right and her reflection blinked back at her from an ornate mirror. Plain and pretty in equal measures; pale skin, black hair, and green eyes... eyes that were still watery and threatening to overspill tears down her cheeks._

" _A face with tears is not a pretty one," the six year old repeated, aloud this time._

 _Pansy swallowed while simultaneously nodding to her reflection._ Mummy just forgot. I can still go myself, still have fun. Still go. Still have fun.

 _After one last determined nod to herself, she marched swiftly, a small giggle escaping her as she pulled each knee up as high as she could. She reached her destination skipping into the large kitchen, and Pansy began her search._

Sandwiches; mmmmm.

Apples; a bit less mmmmm.

Biscuits; lots of mmmmm.

Pumpkin juice; middle amounts of mmmmm.

 _Pansy laughed out loud, locating, and subsequently climbing atop a counter in order to reach, a brown wicker picnic basket. Jumping down, the young girl stomped to the counter island and began carefully placing each item of food into the basket as carefully as she was able._ Can't squash the sandwiches, because then they'll be flatwidges _. Pansy snorted at her play on words and positioned the small bottle of pumpkin juice next to the sandwiches, paying particular attention to their level of squashedness._

 _After she was finished admiring her picnic-basket-packing handiwork, Pansy grabbed hold of the handle and swung the basket from the counter which promptly hit against her left knee._

Ooof!

 _Pansy frowned at the offending basket. "That hurt, you know."_

 _As she exited the back door of the large country house, Pansy stopped and looked back, willing herself not to feel sad, yet unable to remove the mask of disappointment which had shifted over her pale features._

Maybe if I reminded her then she'd come- No! _Pansy physically shook her head again. She forgot because she had another busy plan._

 _Pansy Parkinson's thoughts were deceiving. She was lying to herself, at a mere six years, in spite of what she hopelessly wanted to believe as the truth._ Sometimes _, Pansy thought to herself,_ a lie is better than the truth _. Pansy brushed some hair behind her right ear, and looked at her shoes; pale blue and scuffed at the toes._

A face with tears is not a pretty one. A face with tears is not a pretty one. A face with tears is not a pretty one.

 _Pansy descended the three small steps which led from the kitchen to the spacious country garden that accommodated the Parkinson homestead. She paused at the bottom and observed her surroundings. By most standards, both house and the encircling gardens were beautiful. The large, Victorian structure was, by rights, more of a manor than a regular old house, and the gardens would be more accurately described as 'grounds'._

 _Inhaling deeply through her nose, she thought to herself,_ It smells like summer.

 _Pansy hadn't yet left the confines of the gardens before the picnic basket had become nothing more than an annoyance._ When I'm...at Hogwarts, _Pansy puffed, scowling,_ I won't...have to… carry things… ever again. _By the time she had finally arrived at her journey's end she was exhausted; she was hot, gasping for breath, and sweaty._

Oh, I'm all yuck!

 _Pansy sat, legs and arms both outstretched, and sighed. allowing her upper body to fall backwards. Her back hit the grass with a muffled thwack._ My favourite place in the world _. She lay in a grassy verge, surrounded by birch trees and bramble bushes. The Parkinson's home was visible to Pansy's left and to her right was a large square field. Pansy sat up and turned her attention to the field, she had chosen this particular spot purposefully, as it was close to the field's gate. Her earlier sadness depleted, Pansy began to unpack her picnic and her face broke into a wide smile as she noticed a familiar figure walk towards her._

 _MOOOOO!_

 _Giggling, Pansy moo'd back._

" _I told you I'd come back!"_

* * *

Pansy turned on her heel, her back pressing into the windowsill. Her breathing was so heavy her chest hurt, and she felt as though her mind might explode. Moving quickly towards the bathroom, Pansy stopped in at an airing cupboard and retrieved her favourite towel; light blue in colour with the words _Beach, please_ written in yellow at one end. Daphne had given it to her at the end of Fourth Year when she'd invited Pansy on holiday with the Greengrass family. Daphne had a matching towel in opposite colours, hers featuring the text _Please, beach_. Pansy smiled. Daphne was on holiday again now, to America. Unfortunately for Pansy, the Greengrass' had portkey'd halfway around the world to stay with some far-flung relatives to attend a family wedding. Very much a Greengrass-only affair. Pansy raised the towel to her face, changing its function into a tissue.

 _Oh Daph, are you going to hate me when you find out about my dad?_

* * *

 _They were standing in front of a large, walnut coloured door that led into a large building Pansy didn't recognise. "Pansy, stop fidgeting."_

I do not fidget _. Pansy's face had dropped, she knew she was scowling; she knew this would only annoy her mother more, and yet she wasn't willing to stop. She did, however, keep her accompanying sigh at what she believed to be an inaudible volume._

 _Lilith looked upon her nine-year-old daughter, one perfectly preened eyebrow slowly rising. Pansy glanced back, and watched Lilith's nostrils flare. She gulped, and her gaze shifted to her feet._ Maybe I didn't make my sigh quiet enough. _The door they were facing began to open, and Pansy let out another sigh, this time, of relief. A house elf was standing in the doorway._ I wonder if it's a boy or girl?

" _Greetings, Mrs. Parkinson," the elf squeaked at Lilith, lowering itself into a bow. Rising up it looked at Pansy. "Miss. Parkinson," it said before bowing once more._ Wow! It bowed at me. _Pansy smiled at the elf. "Are you a girl? What's your name?"_ Huh, I didn't know elves could look surprised.

 _Bowing, once more, the elf retorted, "My name is Tula, young Miss, and yes, I am a girl."_

Knew it, _Pansy thought, smugly._ She looks like a girl. _Pansy glanced at her mother, surprised to find she was already watching the young girl once more, in a manner that instinctively caused Pansy to drop her head again to examine her shoes._ Oh, she looks maaaaaad.

" _Please, come in," Tula began, either oblivious to, or, more likely unwilling to comment on the tension that had befallen over the duo. "Mistress and little Miss are waiting for you both in the lounge. I will be happy to show you."_

 _Nodding her head once, curtly, Lilith stepped into the house. Pansy followed suit, trying to emulate her mother's confident strides, however, instead ending up tripping over a small, brown Welcome mat. Pansy's knee hit the wooden floor, hard._ Ow. Oh OW! No, don't cry. Don't cry! A face with tears-

" _Get. Up. Now." Lilith hissed, sounding positively livid. Pansy swallowed hard and rose to her feet, her knee now stinging._

-is not a pretty one.

 _Pansy sniffed. Straightening her back she shifted her attention back to Tula, and Pansy thought she saw the elf give her a small, fleeting smile._

 _The trio walked in silence, Tula leading them through the long hallway, Pansy tried to count the doors they passed._ Eight. Nine. Ten, I think. _They stopped in front of the door at the very end of the corridor, upon which Tula knocked twice and pushed the door ajar._

" _Mistress", Tula began as Pansy craned to see who exactly Tula's mistress was._ And, who is the little Miss?

" _Thank you Tula, would you fetch us the tea and cakes we spoke about?"_

" _Of course Mistress, right away." With a small pop Tula vanished, and Pansy was able to look inside the lounge._

 _The large room managed to look immaculate, perfectly presented, and yet was the picture of a comfortable family home. Large, squashy sofas created a border around one of the most comfortable rugs Pansy had ever seen; it was fluffy, and coloured a dark mauve. Pansy longed to lay on it._ It looks like a purple cloud. _Moving pictures lined the walls in no particular pattern, out of them beamed a family._ They're all really beautiful, _Pansy thought, watching the magical images. A small, square end table stood in front of the adjacent wall from the door, atop of which Pansy noticed the biggest bunch of flowers she had ever seen; rich purples, blues and reds spilt over their vase._

 _Before she'd even met more than their house elf, Pansy already knew she liked it here. She liked this house with its cloud rug and wowing flower arrangements. She liked this family._

 _A slim, blonde woman stepped forward, her smile big and her eyes kind. She looked younger than Lilith, but not by much. Her attire consisted of a simple dark green dress, the skirt of which fell slightly below her knee. A string of pearls adorned her collarbone, and Pansy spotted a matching set around her wrist._ Wow! She's pretty!

" _Lilith! So, so pleased you could make it." The woman placed her hands on the sides of Lilith's arms._

" _It was kind of you to invite us, Freyja."_

 _The blonde woman, Freyja, turned her attention towards Pansy. "It's a pleasure to meet you Pansy." She sounded well-spoken, yet gentle._

" _Thank you." Pansy's voice was small. "It's nice to meet you, too."_

 _Freyja flashed Pansy another smile before back into her lounge, Lilith and Pansy following. Pansy saw Freyja beckon to the far corner of the room and her eyes followed the woman's gaze. A pretty, blonde girl who looked to be around Pansy's age - nine, maybe ten, was standing nearby. Her smile was extremely similar to her mother's, and it was directed towards Pansy as she began to walk across the lounge, towards her mother, Pansy, and Lilith._

" _Hi!" she spoke brightly, blonde curls bouncing as she walked. "I'm Daphne!"_

* * *

" _Hufflepuff."_

" _Hufflepuff!?" Daphne screeched, walloping Pansy in the ribs with a cushion. "Are you_ KIDDING _me, Parkinson?" Laughing, Pansy threw the cushion back, narrowly missing the side of her best friend's head. "Don't be so touchy, badger."_

" _Pans?" Daphne's voice softened, a line appearing across the forehead of her otherwise perfect face_

" _Mmmm, what's up?"_

" _What if we aren't in the same House?" Daphne's gaze had drifted to the window of her bedroom. Pansy looked out, too, and the pair sat in a comfortable, yet very definite silence._

" _I don't know," Pansy answered, honestly._

* * *

Stepping out of the shower, Pansy stepped towards the porcelain sink situated to her left. Her reflection stared sadly back at her from the small mirror above. Undoing the turban-style towel she'd placed her dark locks up into, Pansy watched her mirror-self as a mass of black strands tumbled down over her face, cascading on top of her shoulders, stopping close to her elbows.

Pansy reached into the cabinet that was located behind the mirror and retrieved a bottle of talcum powder, a muggle product her and Daphne had found by complete chance several years prior.

" _This shit leaves my skin so, so, so soft," Daphne exclaimed, relishing as she hugged the bottle to her chest. "You wouldn't believe. Feel me!" she demanded, rotating her body on a sofa of the Slytherin common room and throwing her legs over the combined laps of Blaise and Theo. The boys had shown very little hesitation._

Smiling softly at the memory, Pansy held the bottle of talc close to her nose. She squeezed the bottle, slightly harder than she'd intended, and a giant puff of powder exploded from the pin-sized holes in the cap.

 _Shit! Oh, bloody hell. It's everywhere._

Pansy regarded the bathroom as she bit her lip and sighed in frustration.

 _Looks like it's been bloody snowing._

* * *

I wish it snowed yesterday.

 _Pansy's eyes drifted around the sparsely decorated living room, her small hands clutching a handful of birthday cards; cards her mother had insisted she removed from their previous positions, standing on the mantelpiece._

" _Your birthday was yesterday, Pansy. There's no reason they should still be on display," Lilith said, matter of factly. Pansy looked at each card in turn, watching colourful dancing '6's doing cartwheels. Another showed a kitten playfully batting a ball of yarn which kept unravelling before reassembling into the shape of a bright pink number six. The just-turned six year old turned her attention, once more, to the large windows. "I love snow mummy. Do you love snow?"_

" _-and inform Narcissa we will be happy to attend."_

" _Mu-mmy!" Pansy sank to the floor dramatically, in an attempt to attract Lilith's attention. "Mummy, I_ need _to know. Do you love snow?"_

 _Lilith paused, and the Quick-Quotes Quill poised itself by her left shoulder. "Pansy, Mummy is busy."_

" _I know, but you said. You said you'd come with me today. It's my favourite place in the whole world. Remember? You said we could go_ to-morrow _, and_ to-morrow _is now_ to-DAY _!" Lilith closed her eyes, her fingertips circling at her temples. Pansy watched, eyes wide and hopeful, mouth open; the picture of expectation. Lilith took several long, deep breaths._

" _Look, Pansy, Mummy really doesn't love snow. In fact, I don't even_ like _snow. Wouldn't it be better if we went to your favourite place, to see the sheep-"_

" _-cows, Mummy, cows."_

 _Lilith nodded. "Yes, of course, cows. We could go in the summer."_

" _You promise?" Pansy elongated the word, narrowing her eyes as she stared at her mother. Her face was full of suspicion, yet her heart was full of hope._

" _Absolutely. Once the summer is here, we will go." Pansy knew her mother's attention was already wavering, her eyes were darting back and forth to the still stationery quill._

" _Okay Mummy. Once it smells like summer we can go see the cows." Pansy nodded along with her statement._ Once it smells like summer, mummy will see my favourite place. She'll see the cows.

" _Yes Pansy, you come to me when it-" Lilith paused, her expression one of slight confusion "-_ smells _like summer, we'll go see your cows."_


	4. Needed Them, Always

.

* * *

Part One | Strike the Match

Four. _Needed Them, Always_

* * *

"Shit Pans, you were serious?" Daphne turned the small badge over and over in her perfectly manicured hands. "Head Girl, I always thought Granger-"

"Yeah, me too," Pansy interrupted, watching the badge weave through her best friend's fingers. "But apparently there's new management or something who know my parents, and," she rolled her eyes, "my dad asked them if I could be Head Girl." The slight raise of Daphne's eyebrows didn't go unnoticed. "Yes, I know, it's…" trailing off, she shot Daphne a sideways glance.

"-kind of _lame,"_ Daphne offered, attempting, albeit not very well, to conceal her blatant desire to laugh. She handed the badge back and tucked a long blonde strand behind one ear before examining her dark purple painted fingernails, bringing her hands together side by side, her fingers stretched out, she turned her hands over, waving them in front of Pansy's face. "What do you think of this colour?"

"Lame? What the fuck is _lame?_ " Pansy demanded, far more aghast than she really ought to be, ignoring the presented question.

"It's what they say in America when something is really, really uncool. You know, like your best friend getting Head Girl due to her dad _knowing someone._ Seriously, is this too dark on me? _In America_ , they go for manicures like we go for _haircuts._ "

 _Daphne, I swear to fuck if you mention what they say, do, or how they fucking shit in America once more I'm going to hex you._

"Do they? That's fascinating," Pansy retorted, tartly.

"You know, in America, they are nowhere near as sarcastic."

"Is that so?" Daphne had returned from her big American holiday two days previous, declaring that her destination was, " _Totally, like, the greatest place in the world."_

The pair were sitting outside a Muggle restaurant, an upmarket, overpriced Italian place in Soho. Daphne had wanted to dine ' _al fresco'_ and Pansy had wanted pizza - an easy compromise. At Daphne's insistence, along with her outlandish flirting with their waiter, a ploy Pansy was certain was solely so they could avoid getting asked for ID, the duo were sipping cocktails.

"You know," Daphne began, ignoring the last sarcastic reply that Pansy had retorted, "this means we won't sleep in the same dorm anymore? You know you're basically _abandoning-_ " she put a lot of emphasis on the word, "-me and Mills?"

"Apparently, things are going to be different for me this year, according to the she-hag anyway."

Daphne snorted. "'She-hag'? That's lovely, definitely my new favourite. It paints an interesting mental image." Daphne paused, raising her glass as she took a long drink. "Mmm, this is almost as nice as its name," the blonde declared, placing her tall glass which contained something called 'Sex-On-The-Beach' back on the table. She continued, "'Different'? _Good_ different, like you can now eat fifty chocolate frogs a day and not ever have a fat arse? Or _bad_ different, like you suddenly develop a deathly allergy to all forms of eye makeup?"

Pansy was nibbling on one of the pizza crusts that remained on her plate. "Good, but probably not quite 'fifty chocolate frogs' good." Putting the crust down, her throat suddenly dry, Pansy sighed, "I have to tell you something, Daph."

Daphne, who had returned her attention back towards her cocktail, looked up. "Okay, what's up?" ' _What's up?' Ugh, Daphne, stop it!_ Pansy looked down, unable to meet Daphne's eyes. She picked up the pizza crust once more and watched her hands rotate it, though the crust was the last thing from Pansy's mind. What she _was_ seeing, in some scary part of her mind that Pansy wished she could vacate, was her best friend of nearly eight years loudly telling Pansy to go fuck herself before dramatically storming off: because Daphne did most things dramatically. In fact, Daphne's dramatic nature had reached legendary status within Slytherin. _Daphne Drama,_ a term Blaise had coined a few years prior after Daphne had almost cried in potions when Neville Longbottom had accidentally squirted a dollop of bubotuber pus in the blonde's face, was a commonly used descriptor within their House.

Pansy's favourite Daphne Drama, however, she thought with a soft small smile, had taken place in Fifth Year, when a minute, grey owl - clearly lost, had found its way into the Hogwarts dungeons and somehow managed to zoom into the Slytherin common room. For several moments, the bird dashed above their heads in no discernable pattern, whilst hooting dismally. Finally, after exhausting its way around the entirety of the ceiling multiple times over, the owl emptied its bowels rather spectacularly. Unfortunately for Daphne, she found herself to be standing directly under the still speeding owl's bottom at the point it defecated. Looking back, Pansy thought maybe she would have reacted similarly had an owl taken a shit on her head.

"HE-LLOOOOOO! Do I need to pour the rest of my drink over you? Because I really don't want to do that, it's yummy." Pansy eyed Daphne warily, trying to ignore the anxiety creeping into the pit of her stomach.

"You might hate me," Pansy responded curtly, snapping out of her reminiscing.

"I already hate you for leaving me to become Head Girl. A bit more hate probably won't make a lot of difference." Pansy took a deep breath. _I love you, Daphne Greengrass, you beautiful bitch._

"I think my dad is hanging out with some really bad people."

"The old minister bad, or Draco's dad bad?"

Pansy dropped her gaze to the table once more. Barely more than a whisper, her mouth still impossibly dry, she managed to croak, "Draco's dad."

"Shit, you sure?" Daphne's eyes dropped to a frown.

"Do you remember last year, at that weird party Draco's mum and dad threw - when we met Rabastan Lestrange?"

"Yeah, Gods that was _awful_. He was such a perv. I wish they'd throw him back in Azkaban."

"Not likely."

Pansy would remember the night her and Daphne, along with Blaise, Millicent, Theo, Crabbe, and Goyle were summoned to Malfoy Manor as though it were only a few days prior, probably for the rest of her life. The _Garden Gathering,_ as Narcissa had penned the evening, had been an incredibly uncomfortable affair. The seven classmates had been introduced, by an even more uncomfortable Draco, to a who's who of Wizarding Britain's most notorious criminals. Pansy hadn't needed many of the vocalised introductions at all, having recognised a number of the 'guests' from various wanted posters the year before.

Rabastan Lestrange had stayed by the girls' side far longer than either of them had either anticipated nor wanted. His voice, possibly once charming, now sounded hideously gravelly, and gave her chills at the memory of it.

A wide-eyed, frantic-looking Freyja Greengrass had been the source of their rescue, feigning illness and pulled her eldest daughter and Pansy hurriedly towards the floo.

"If my mum hadn't dragged us home, he'd have stayed with us all night," Daphne said, wrinkling her nose at the memory of Rabastan.

"I'm glad your mum _did_ drag us home."

"Me too." Daphne was watching Pansy intently, her usual aloof attitude seemingly having been cast aside.

"Well-" Pansy began, forcing the conversation to return to the present, "-I heard him, Rabastan, in my house the other night. He and my dad were talking about a family; I-I think Rabastan killed them. They spoke of some arrangement they'd made, and a meeting... Daph, I think it was a-"

"-Death Eater meeting," Daphne whispered, her voice rushed as her right hand shot over her mouth.

Pansy didn't answer. It hadn't been a question.

She dared to look into Daphne's face for the first time since she began this awful conversation. Daphne's expression, apart from shocked, was undecipherable. Pansy recognised a wave of anger cross Daphne's blue eyes. _Oh, my Gods, she does hate me._ She watched as Daphne, her best friend since she was nine years old, inhaled a deep breath, and the blonde stood up. She was hurried, yet still graceful, even with her chair being practically flung aside. _She's leaving. She's having a Daphne Drama. She's having a Daphne Drama AT ME._

"Daph, wait! Please, it's not-" Daphne had stormed around the table towards her. Pansy stopped mid-sentence, her eyes widened, and her body shrank back into her chair. _She's going to fucking hit me._ Daphne launched herself on top of Pansy, her arms locked themselves around Pansy's neck. _Is she trying to strangle me?_

"Oh, Pans!" Daphne's voice began to choke. _What the hell, Daphne, you're sitting on my knee you weirdo! Well, at least she's not mad, is she?_

"You're not mad at me?" Pansy's voice was muffled beneath Daphne's hold on her.

"Why would I be mad at _you_? Why would you think I would hate you?"

Pansy shrugged. "Well, it's not, you know, great is it?"

"But it's not _you._ I'm not going to be mad at you over what your arsehole dad is doing." Daphne squeezed Pansy tighter. _I may still end up strangled._

"Daphne?"

"Hmm?"

"Daphne, you do realise you're _sitting on my knee_ , right?"

"Yes."

"Okay, I had to make sure because, you know, people are looking." Pansy had become embarrassingly aware that people were indeed watching the pair. Muggles, both at the surrounding tables and on the pavement that was parallel to the restaurant's front were outright staring at the duo. Daphne got up, loudly proclaimed that everyone observing was 'Clearly jealous.' Sinking back into her seat, she picked up her cocktail, and after realising it was almost empty started looking in all directions, no doubt trying to locate the waiter.

Pansy started to laugh, in spite of everything. She had no idea what this year had in store. It was common knowledge that Voldemort had returned, and this meant there would be sides to choose between and possibly fighting whichever one they opted to oppose. Whatever happened, Pansy was struck with the certainty that she still had her best friend. She realised, in the moment her friend hugged her neck, that she'd never appreciated Daphne Greengrass more.

"I love you, you weirdo," Pansy said across the table, only Daphne clearly wasn't listening, her blue eyes fixated at a point directly over Pansy's right shoulder.

"Here she is!" the blonde exclaimed, excitedly, getting to her feet again. Pansy turned her head just in time to see a familiar face bobbing its way amongst the other tables towards them. Pansy smiled and joined Daphne on her feet just as Millicent got arrived at their table.

"Hi, girls!" Millicent cried as she rushed to hug first Pansy and then Daphne, in turn. "How are you both?"

Both Pansy and Daphne exchanged polite niceties with their friend, who had pulled up her own seat and was beckoning to the waiter nearby. "I'll have what," Millicent paused, her eyes dashing between Pansy and Daphne's drinks, eventually she settled on Daphne's looking the most appealing, and pointing to the beverage she continued, "one of those, please."

The waiter nodded and turned on his heel at her request, and as she removed her coat, Millicent dipped her voice and muttered a pointed, "Okay, how are you both, _really_?" Pansy and Daphne shared a thousand words with one look, and one slight nod from Daphne, was all Pansy needed to be persuaded to tell Millicent everything she had just shared with Daphne.

"Shit!" Millicent exclaimed once Pansy had finished telling the story of her being appointed Head Girl, to Rabastan's night time visit, to her newfound information about her father's chosen vocation. "That's...a lot, are you okay, Pans?"

Pansy swallowed, "Yeah, I-I'm fine. I'm okay."

"Babe, I really don't think you are okay," Daphne interjected, never one for subtlety.

"I agree with Daph," Millicent said, reaching across the table and grabbing one of Pansy's hands in her own for a second. "We're here for you." Daphne nodded enthusiastically at Millicent's words.

"Whatever you need," Daphne agreed, before contemplating for a few seconds, "I wonder who Head Boy will be?"

"Probably Draco," Pansy said, "it makes sense for them to do the same for him as they did for me."

"Imagine if it's not, though," Millicent mused, "imagine living with Macmillan, or Finch-Fletchley...or Longbottom!" she added with a cackle that Daphne matched.

Pansy rolled her eyes at her friends. "Well, Longbottom wasn't even a Prefect so that seems unlikely."

"I can't believe you're abandoning us," Millicent said, a feigned look of hurt suddenly present on her face.

"That's what I said," Daphne stated, her eyes shining as she struggled to keep a straight face, "see Pans, Millie agrees, you are awful."

Millicent nodded as she reached for her newly delivered Sex on the Beach. "Positively terrible."

"Well, if reputations are to be upheld, the _Queen Bitch of Slytherin_ can't be seen as anything less than awful and terrible now, can I?"

"Well," Millicent began, "you do have a point, there."

"I feel like _the most_ important thing to discuss isn't Pansy's ridiculous demand to move into the Head Quarters to make room for all the sacrificial altars and jars of unicorn blood she needs, is _who,"_ she pointed at Millicent and Pansy in turn, "is going to _get it on,_ with who?" Pansy didn't miss the slight colouring of Millicent's cheeks at Daphne's question and watched with intrigue Millicent asked Daphne if she was still sleeping with Theo, something that Daphne had been doing for the majority of the last two years. _Interesting,_ Pansy thought to herself as her eyes met Millicent's and a momentary plea of silence crossed over Millicent's brown iris'.

"Mer-lin NO!" Daphne replied, having obviously missed the fleeting blush over Millicent's face. "He was such a pig to me, and besides," she pushed herself further upright in her chair, and as Pansy and Millicent exchanged another look, Pansy knew that the whole reason that Daphne had started the conversation was about to be revealed. "A certain Mr Zabini _might_ have been owling me _all summer,_ even when I was in America." The beam now present on Daphne's face was infectious. "Girls, I think I'm _in love_ ," she whispered the last two words, as though afraid of them.

"That's great, Daph," Millicent said, and Pansy couldn't help but wonder if she had only imagined the touch of relief in Millicent's tone. "What about you, Pans? Are you and Draco still on?"

Pansy's mouth twisted as she contemplated the question. In many ways the answer should be simple, it _should_ be yes. An _easy_ yes. They'd been drawn together since First Year, and _first_ was something of a running theme between them. First kiss, first... _everything_. Draco was, in many ways, a danger. His involvement with the Death Eaters, and the fact he'd taken the Mark without too much prompting, however misguided, not to mention his proximity to the situation in which got Albus Dumbledore killed, should be enough to make anyone want to run a million miles from the Malfoy heir. But it had never felt that way, not to Pansy. In fact, he'd always felt the very opposite of dangerous.

Draco Malfoy was Pansy's safety net.

And yet, after last year, especially towards the end, the connection they shared had shifted. It was still raw and real and they were still, in many ways, everything to the other, but Pansy didn't know if the them that was a couple could ever come back.

"I don't feel like that about him now," Pansy told the other girls, "after last year, he got so...ill, you know?" Pansy watched both Daphne and Millicent nod. It hadn't been a secret, Pansy doubted that anyone in Hogwarts hadn't noticed Draco's dwindling sense of self at one point or another. "I ended up feeling more...responsible for him than attracted to him. It's like he was mine, he's _always_ been mine, and probably always will be, but maybe just not in that way anymore."

Both her friends offered a smile at Pansy's words. "Do you know what's funny?" Daphne began, "take out the _not attracted_ part, because _obviously_ he has been seriously attracted to you, but that's _exactly_ how he's always felt about you, Pans. It's like you're his, to protect. It's lovely."

Pansy gave a small nod. "Yeah, I suppose you're right."

"See, Pans, even when everything feels like shit, you'll always have people who would do anything for you." Pansy offered her best friend a soft smile, hoping that somehow, despite the terrifying state that their world was now in, that Daphne was correct. She needed them all.

She needed them, always.


	5. Some Things Need to be Faced Alone

.

* * *

Part One | Strike the Match

Five. _Some Things Need to be Faced Alone_

* * *

The next few days passed in a Daphne-tinted blur. A daze of shopping, alcohol, and taking advantage of the end of the summer rays at the Greengrass' holiday home - a lodge situated on the Dorset coast, filled the remainder of their summer. Millicent, unlike Pansy, had opted to spend the rest of the holidays with her family and had bid the girls farewell after their afternoon cocktail catch up, and so Pansy spent the remainder of the summer with Daphne, and Daphne's sister Astoria. Both sisters were now an impressive shade of golden brown, and even Pansy, whose skin usually had a tendency to annoyingly stick to a cycle of white, burnt, peeling burnt, and then back to white, had a healthy looking glow, compared to her usual paler-than-pale colouring.

"Ugh! I can't believe it's the last day of the holidays tomorrow," Daphne commented. The bikini-clad blonde was laying atop a striped green sunlounger, her long hair framed her face in two long plaits, her eyes were covered by a pair of oversized gold-framed sunglasses.

"I know," Pansy had rather got used to being close to water, which was her favourite place to be; especially from living in the Slytherin dungeons for six years. She'd loved it, from the very moment she first entered her common room.

* * *

" _We're in the dungeons, mostly under the lake. It is believed most of the rock naturally eroded leaving the bulk of the room which became our common room-" Pansy hadn't really understood what the fifth-year prefect girl was talking about. "-the area was expanded, the dormitories were then created by Salazar Slytherin himself. They all feature windows directly into the lake, just like the common room does."_

Wait! What? _Pansy had managed to understand something in all that drivel, their windows looked_ into _the lake._

 _The lake has always been called 'The Black Lake', the prefect continued, turning to lead them down a staircase, "but it only appears black if you look at it from a distance. In reality, as you'll see, it's quite clear; the merpeople make sure of that._

Wow! Merpeople? For reals?

 _The small group had come to a stop in front of a seemingly blank stretch of wall, Pansy and Daphne glanced at each other, eyes wide._

" _Sanguinem," the prefect declared. One more glance at Daphne showed she was just as baffled as Pansy was. The stone wall began to move._

Oh!

 _The shuddering wall revealed a stone archway, big enough to walk through and the new Slytherin first years trooped into their common room for the first time. Pansy hadn't been quite prepared for the sight that greeted her - walking through the maze of the Hogwarts dungeons, she had felt shivery, and, though she'd never admit it aloud, a tad scared. But, luckily, the Slytherin common room was a stark contrast to the cold, plain stone corridors she'd walked down only moments ago. The large, roughly circular room still had dark grey, stone walls, but these walls were different; they were almost glistening,_ almost glittering _,_ _Pansy thought in amazement. There was a large fireplace which seemed to serve as a main focal point over to the right of the small group. The fireplace itself seemed to be made of a single, huge piece of cut dark green marble which housed a roaring fire. The floor was not, as Pansy had imagined, made of the same stone the floors of the dungeon corridors were, but of a deep, walnut coloured wood. Comfy looking, yet elegant couches stood at various points. The lighting was dim, the fire radiating a fair amount of both heat and light, yet Pansy realised the main source of light came from the windows. Even though it was now night time, the prefect had been right, the windows were enormous, so massive in fact, that each one simply replaced the wall it was situated on. Moonlight streamed into the room from all sides through the clearest water Pansy had ever seen. Her eyes greedily attempted to see as much as she could as she spotted a shoal of small silvery fish dart past a window-wall to their left._

* * *

Sitting up, Pansy watched the waves of the English Channel lapping continuously onto the sand in front of them.

"We'd better go," Daphne interrupted Pansy's reminiscent thoughts. "Think dinner will be ready? I'm starving."

"Doing fuck all definitely works up an appetite," Pansy mused.

"Doesn't it just?" Daphne agreed. She grabbed her towel and bag, and picked up her wand before casually checking no muggles were nearby. "You ready?" Seeing Pansy's nod, Daphne continued, "Okay, see you there," and the blonde apparated away with a small _pop._ Pansy looked towards the waves again, allowing herself to become momentarily entranced. She gave the water a brief, slight smile and apparated back to the lodge herself.

"Good day, girls?" Freyja enquired. All Pansy and Daphne could do was eagerly nod, their mouths stuffed. Every time Pansy thought Freyja, or more accurately Tula, had served the best version of a meal Pansy had ever tried, somehow she was always proven wrong. The steak pie on her plate was indeed the _best_ steak pie she'd ever eaten, despite knowing she'd claimed that the last time she'd eaten the dish. Freyja smiled, looking from Daphne, to Astoria and finally to Pansy. She looked the picture of happiness surrounded by what she called _her girls,_ the sentiment having always extended to Pansy as well as her own daughters. Daphne's father tended to be absent more than he was present, and the three young women knew Freyja was happiest when she was surrounded by _her girls._

"Pansy dear," Freyja began, "your mother-" her eyes narrowed as she spoke the word; her and Lilith having always held very different ideals on the subject of motherhood, "-owled again this morning. The letter is on the dresser in your room." _Oh, fantastic._

Pansy sighed, smiling at the Greengrass matriarch. "Thanks, she's probably wondering if I'll be going back at any point before Hogwarts."

Astoria snorted, "For what, one day?"

Pansy swallowed a mouthful of mashed potatoes. She didn't want to spend the short remainder of her holiday having the same debate she always ended up having. "I might go for an hour or something tomorrow. There is some stuff I want to pick up as well."

Freyja nodded, her eyes kind. Astoria regarded Pansy sympathetically and offered a comforting smile; Daphne wrinkled her nose, shrugged, then quipped, "Rather you than me, but, you know, _with me_ if you need."

Pansy sniggered. "It's alright Daph, I won't subject you to such horror."

Daphne's expression changed to one of concern, "I really will come if you want-"

"It's fine, honestly. I'll be okay." Pansy smiled at her best friend, not really feeling like smiling at all, but she knew Daphne wasn't lying, and she would have come. Daphne would have spent all day alone with Lilith if Pansy needed, but she didn't. _Some things need to be faced alone. Things like she-hags._

"Okay, just let me know if you change your mind."

The rest of Pansy's evening passed in a sleepy, relaxed, and for the most part, happy mood. Daphne had declared the end of the day was best spent with copious amounts of wine, much to the agreement of the other three. Freyja included herself in the face masks, nail painting and drinking games and actually giggled as she declared, "Because you all know I'm still a girl at heart."

A few hours and many glasses later, Daphne emitted a loud scream and promptly ran away after removing a towel from Pansy's head. The 'fun experiment', or at least that was what Daphne had called it, included a certain something the Muggles called 'bleach'.

"Daphne..." Pansy's eyebrows were raised. "What's wrong?" Daphne didn't answer, and instead attempted to hide in the washing up bowl in the sink.

"Hiya Pans," Daphne slurred through intermittent hiccups, a dopey smile etched on her face. "You know you're pretty, right? Hey, can you help me get my bum out of this bowl?"

"Daphne!" Pansy repeated, eyebrows still elevated, and eyes wide as she stared at her reflection in the mirror.

"Yeah, babe?"

"Why is my hair fucking _green_?"

* * *

 _Please tell me there's Sober-Up._ Pansy awoke the next morning with a start. _Was that a roar?_ Pansy had a horribly dry mouth, a pounding head and conflicting, nausea-inducing knowledge that she needed to both throw up and eat a fry up: in that order. Turning carefully to her right, she didn't yet trust her body would be able to handle any sudden movements, Pansy observed the seemingly comatose body lying beside her. Daphne, usually the very image of perfection was lying, eagle spread, in the shape of a five-point star, in the very centre of the large bed. _Well, thank fuck it's a king size._ Daphne's mouth was not only gaping wide, but emitting snores that were, for one, heinously loud, and two, seemed to last around 30 seconds each. _That explains the roar._ Her blonde locks, which usually fell down her back in an impeccably stylish mixture of sleek with a hint of Daphne's trademark messiness, was currently strewn over the bedcovers. It was impossible to tell where it began or ended. _Good grief, Daph. Your hair could rival Granger's._

Pansy sat up tentatively, the light that was attempting to permeate the heavy curtains was slight, but had already forced the pain in Pansy's head to worsen. _Gah! Nope, shouldn't have done that._ Tipping her head forward, Pansy placed her forehead in her hands and let out a very audible groan. She remained there, perfectly stationary, for the better part of what felt like ten minutes, before deciding that whatever symptom this hangover felt inclined to present her with, it would more than likely be an improvement over the absolute earache caused by Daphne's cave-bear-esque snoring. Moving her hands slowly away from her forehead, Pansy felt parts of her hair falling in front of her face. She knew she was risking her headache pounding even harder by opening just one eye and allowing any form of light to penetrate her eyeballs, but then again, she weighed up the alternative. _The roars of the she-beast here aren't helping my head, anyway._ Braving the impending sting she knew was going to grace her sight, Pansy slowly opened her eyes. _What the fuck!_

What Pansy had _not_ expected was to be met by streaks of a luminescent bright green, and what she _really_ hadn't expected was a memory that washed over her all at once like a sort of remembrance tidal wave. _Why is my hair fucking green?_ "Oh no. Oh fuck. Oh no! Daphne! DAPHNE!" The blonde exhaled loudly, grunted, and propelled herself clumsily onto her side, facing away from Pansy and her bright green head. _Oh no you fucking don't._ Grabbing her wand, Pansy cast a quick silencing charm over the bedroom, before pressing the length of walnut against her throat, staring daggers into the back of Daphne's head. " _Sonorus_ ," she muttered with narrowed eyes..."DAPHNEEEE!"

The reaction to the amplifying charm was instantaneous, and, to Pansy, hilarious. It had been more than worth heightening the effects of her sore head to see Daphne literally jump three feet into the air above the bed.

"WHAT THE- WHAT!? PANS? MUM! ASTORIA! ARE YOU THERE? WHERE'S TULA? TULAAAAA!"

Daphne stopped shouting long enough to look around, wide-eyed, her face the picture of alarm. She dropped her gaze to Pansy, who had, in turn, fallen onto the bed and was crying with the loudest and most booming laugh a very confused Daphne had ever heard. Pansy sat up, attempting to keep her face straight.

"LOOK AT MY FUCKING HAIR, YOU BITCH!" she managed to gasp, or because she hadn't yet lifted the amplifying charm, a more correct description would have been she managed to blare.

"Turn your voice down you crazy fuck!" Daphne screeched, borderline hysterical.

"OH, RIGHT. OKAY I'LL DO IT NOW, WHAT'S THE COUNTER CHARM AGAIN?" Pansy boomed some more.

"You're so not funny," Daphne retorted, grabbing her own wand, aiming it at her emerald-haired best friend, and said, " _Quietus_."

"Oh yeah, that's what it is."

"Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha." Daphne stuck her tongue out. "So, you look nice. Brings out your eyes that colour does. You're welcome."

"Oh yes, thank you so-" Pansy enunciated the words to emphasise her sarcasm, "-so much."

Lying back down, Daphne yawned. "Can I go back to sleep now?"

"You can fix my hair now."

"I meant it, it suits you. Night." Daphne's eyes closed.

Picking up a large pillow, Pansy raised her arms above her head, and brought her arms over in a large arch, promptly hitting Daphne in the side of the head.

"Nnnnnahumph! What was that for?"

"Get up, Daphne."

"Ugh, fine. Did you know you can be a total drama queen?"

* * *

 _Pop!_

Pansy opened her eyes, still reeling slightly from the apparition. _I'll never get used to that._ She scanned the living room. It was a space which had encapsulated so much of her lonely childhood, until she'd become inseparable from Daphne, of course. The room looked little different, as though everything within its walls, from the expensive floor covering, to the very mantelpiece Pansy had taken down her sixth birthday cards from _,_ had become frozen in time; the last eleven years merely a blip on the tapestry of this room's own timeframe.

Pansy almost wished she felt sad, grief even, for the fact that this area no longer felt like any kind of home; _it hadn't for a long time_. No more did she feel any sense of joy that she had essentially managed to leave her dismal upbringing behind her.

In fact, Pansy felt very little for the place in which she now stood. Her disinterested expression echoing her emotional detachment. As a child, Pansy had grown increasingly good at pretending to be happy. In the few long weeks she'd spend back in her parents house at the beginning of the month, during which she'd overheard her father and Rabastan Lestrange discussing their sinister pastimes, Pansy had quickly realised she'd lost her ability to mask her utter disappointment that radiated from her every wretched second she spent confined to the Parkinson homestead.

 _Click._

 _Clack._

 _Click._

 _Clack._

The sound of Lilith's trademark high heels approaching caused Pansy's eyes to snap shut once more. She debated silently whether to simply apparate away. She knew her mother would already know she was here.

The door that connected the living room to the hallway suddenly pushed inwards. Lilith Parkinson was standing in the doorway, her posture poker straight, her face perfectly emulating Pansy's own indifferent gaze.

"Your father and I would like to speak to you. He's waiting in his study." _Oh, well it's nice to see you too._ Lilith was regarding her daughter with a cold disinterest. Pansy was half-wishing she had waited until after this little family reunion before she'd gotten Freyja to glamour her hair back to it's regular ebony shade. Daphne, it transpired, had ended up proving herself to be incredibly useless in correcting her bleaching experiment. _You'd be looking even more disappointed if you'd seen me this morning, Mother dearest._

"Right, fine." Pansy strode towards the door, not bothering to look at Lilith a moment longer than she needed. Lilith stepped backwards, allowing her daughter to march haughtily past.

Pansy's stride didn't falter as she navigated the wide hallway. She glanced at her surroundings immediately. This place, this house, felt _wrong_ somehow, just like realising a once-familiar person is now a stranger. Pansy didn't stop until she found herself in front of the door leading to Cassius' study.

Hearing the same click-clacking which indicated her mother was approaching her rear, Pansy took a deep breath before knocking on the door once, curtly. Not seeing any need as to why she should wait for an answer, Pansy opened the door and entered the study.

Cassius' study was a room that had, throughout Pansy's life, remained off-limits. The room, whilst not exactly large, could definitely be described as grand. Dark wood panelling covered the lower half of the walls, and the corresponding upper half was painted a decadent, deep moss green. The dark wood flooring matched the wall panelling perfectly, which in turn matched the furnishings, all of which were the same espresso coloured wood.

Pansy, however, noticed neither the wall panelling or the flooring. She didn't see the furniture or the deep green walls. Her eyes opened wide and remained staring, unblinking, at a smiling, familiar face. Breathing suddenly ragged, Pansy realised, despite the warmth of summer still residing around her, she felt an uncontrollable shiver creep its way up her spine. _Why, oh Gods, why? Is Rabastan Lestrange here?_


	6. Wait for my Owl

.

* * *

Part One | Strike the Match

Six. _Wait for my Owl_

* * *

Had there been a mirror within Pansy's line of sight she would have seen that her pale face, although perhaps whiter than usual, had somehow managed to stay the epitome of calm.

Internally, she was screaming.

Focussing on nothing but keeping her breathing steady, Pansy watched Rabastan's mouth twist, the corners upturning, dimples forming in a line on each cheek. His _barely-a-smile_ smile gave Pansy the uncomfortable feeling it was rarely used for social niceties. Rabastan Lestrange was _probably totally hot_ when he was younger _,_ as Daphne had argued, and indeed, even Pansy couldn't view him as an unattractive man. He was tall- _ish,_ and although hard to tell due to the large leather waistcoat, similar to a Muggle biker cut, he looked to still have a reasonably fit physique. The top half of his head was covered with a mop of thick curls, the shade only lighter than Pansy's by a smidge. He wore his facial hair in the form of a moustache and a goatee-style beard covering his chin. His skin, unlike so many of his fellow formerly-incarcerated Death Eaters, wasn't sallow, nor did it feature the same permanently wild haunted look that Pansy had come to associate with the few times she had seen his sister-in-law Bellatrix.

It was his eyes, however, that were Rabastan's most striking feature. They bored into Pansy's own, too grey to be blue, yet too blue to be grey; two pools of sheer ice both physically and metaphorically, they held no trace of warmth in either colour or appearance.

Pansy glanced at her father, the first time she had done so since entering the study. Cassius was sitting behind his desk, seemingly having eyes for nothing and no one bar the lowball glass he was currently turning through his long fingers. The short tumbler encased a small measure of brown liquid Pansy easily identified as firewhisky.

Exhaling a deep breath Pansy hadn't realised she'd been holding, she turned her attention back to Rabastan, now on his feet and making the few steps needed to close the gap between the two of them. _You seriously could have stayed where you were._

"Pansy." The way Rabastan voiced her name sent a lone shiver throughout Pansy's entire upper body. Never particularly _liking_ her name, Pansy had grown accustomed to it, and even begrudgingly admitted that it somehow suited her. But now, the way in which Rabastan said the word with his raspy drawl, Pansy realised she hated how her name sounded when the sound rolled off _his_ lips. She watched the man in front of her open his arms as he firmly clasped each of Pansy's shoulders. His icy iris' peered into her own green ones before he pushed a rough, stubble-clad cheek against her own, he proceeded to hold there far longer than Pansy deemed was necessary, wanting nothing more than to tell him to stop touching her face, _you creepy fuck!_

Rabastan finally drew himself away from her, taking a single, slight step back, his hands remaining lodged on Pansy's shoulders. She watched his face as it distorted into the same twisted smile as before as though the very act of smiling in such a circumstance was foreign. _Which to him,_ Pansy knew, _it probably was._

"Your father," Rabastan began as he gestured in the general direction of Cassius's desk behind him. Pansy decided to take advantage of the release of his right hand from her left shoulder and sidestepped away from the Death Eater, instead perching herself on a nearby chair, "-invited me to your home in the hope that we could all get to know," his frosty gaze lingered on Pansy's face as he said the last word, before unashamedly drifting southwards. He openly leered at Pansy's body, prompting her to cross both arms over her chest and hide as much of herself as she could whilst struggling to maintain a great deal of self-control. Normally, anyone, _except, apparently, this psychopathic murderer_ , who stared at her so unreservedly would have been, at worst, unapologetically cursed and, at best, hurled with obscenities. _My face is up here, dickhead,_ "-each other a bit better." Rabastan concluded; demented smile and lingering eyes both back in place with a vengeance. _What? Umm no, thank you._

Pansy didn't dare voice her lack of enthusiasm as her eyes searched the office. Lilith stood by the door, having clearly entered the room at some point in the conversation without Pansy's notice. Cassius stared into his tumbler of firewhisky, the same look of disinterest still etched upon his aging face. Rabastan was standing with his backside leaning casually on Cassius' large desk, arms loosely crossed, his right leg folded in front of his left with the toe of his right boot resting on the dark wooden floor. He looked at her with an expectant air.

"Ehh..." Pansy began. She had nothing. _What the fuck am I supposed to say?_ Pansy took a deep breath, willing herself to say something. _At this point, anything will do, brain!_

Thankfully, Pansy was spared the daunting task of replying to Rabastan's statement as Cassius's whisky glass shot into the air landing three feet to the left. The Parkinson patriarch, who was on further inspection currently clenching both fists, had his eyes squeezed tightly shut. Pansy watched her father take several deep breaths as his expression became thunderous. Rabastan was watching him with eyebrows raised, his face a condescending smirk.

"We, err-" Cassius blustered, his voice a deeper pitch than usual. "Rabastan and I, I mean, we need to go."

Pansy was slightly confused at the sudden change of events and frowned to hide her delight. _Thank fuck._

"Yeah, sorry, Pans," Rabastan said as he turned once more to face Pansy. _You do not get to call me Pans!_

"Tell you what, I'll write you at Hogwarts. We'll arrange something." It wasn't a question.

Rabastan moved towards Pansy again and once more his mouth was so uncomfortably close to her ear that she could feel his hot breath against the side of her head. Finding herself completely enclosed by the arms that were now, for some awful reason, enclosing her, she felt a sudden rush of panic. _You need to get away from me now,_ Pansy thought, willing her breaths to remain even despite their threats to become ragged. _What the fuck are my parents getting me involved in?_

"Wait for my owl, yeah, Pans?" It was barely more than a scratchy whisper. All Pansy had left within her, all she could muster before her ability to breathe easily deserted her, before her tears began to fall, betraying her, was one solitary nod. Rabastan chastely kissed her cheek before standing up and strolling towards the door. The Death Eater didn't look back, and neither did Cassius as he followed Rabastan into the hallway, muttering something about _the dining room floo_.

"It gets easier. The burning's less and less each time." Pansy heard Rabastan say, his voice quickly becoming fainter as the two men departed further up the corridor.

* * *

" _Does it hurt?" Pansy asked, caressing the pale skin._

" _No," Draco had replied, simply. "I mean, it does when you get it, and it burns like a bitch when he's…" he trailed off._

 _Nodding her head, choosing not to press the matter, Pansy sat up in the four poster and pulled one of Draco's grey t-shirts over her head. Draco followed suit, swinging his legs over the side of his bed whilst simultaneously Accio-ing himself clean clothes._

" _I'd better go. You okay to show yourself out?"_

" _Charming," Pansy snorted, "but yes, I believe I can find my way back." She watched as Draco finished dressing, taking extra care to make sure his left forearm was indeed covered. "You don't have to go, you know. We could stay here like we used to."_

" _Pans, you know I can't. I've told you." Draco looked at her, a strained expression on his pale face. Pansy knew she was exasperating him; it was already the tenth time she had attempted the same conversation, which always ended in a similar fashion._

" _I just wish," she began, chewing the inside of her cheek, knowing she needed to choose her words carefully, "there was a different way," she finished, rather pitifully._

 _Draco was already on his feet, facing the dormitory door. He sighed, looking down at his once-girlfriend. "Just promise me something, Pans?" Pansy's green eyes met his grey._

" _Promise you won't ever get mixed up in this bullshit." Pansy smiled sadly in response, nodding as she watched Draco leave._

* * *

Lilith cleared her throat, Pansy had, quite honestly, almost forgot her mother was present within the room. "Come on now, Pansy. Out of your father's study."

"Don't worry, _mother,"_ she emphasised the word slowly, glaring at Lilith. "I'm not hanging around," Pansy snapped in the second before she disapparated.


	7. Back to Hogwarts

.

* * *

Part One | Strike the Match

Seven. _Back to Hogwarts_

* * *

"So, you'll have to go to the prefect's carriage again, right?" Daphne asked.

"Yeah, I'm supposed to be there in five minutes."

"Okay, help me find Blaise or Millie first?"

"Done!" Pansy laughed, elbowing Daphne and pointing to four familiar figures less than ten feet away from where the girls were. Daphne's face morphed into a wide smile as she ran along the crowded platform, before promptly flinging herself into Blaise Zabini. "I've missed you!" Pansy heard Daphne squeal as she approached. Her own smile grew as she hugged Theo, Millicent, Blaise, and Draco, respectively. Draco squeezed her for the longest of the four.

"You okay?" She heard him mutter, and Pansy felt a strange wobble in her emotions as she withdrew from their embrace and looked at her long time friend. She wasn't _in love_ with Draco anymore, in fact, she was unsure if she ever was, but she _did_ love him, and she knew, in that moment, that he was probably the only other person that could understand her right now. She'd been the one he'd turned to last year when his doubts spoke to himself too loudly. She'd been the one who had known, with a heavy heart, who had enabled the Death Eaters to enter the school; because she'd been the only one he trusted enough to break down in front of, she'd been the one he'd screamed and trashed half of his possessions in front of. She was the one he had held onto, the one whose arms had held a tear-stained Draco Malfoy as he gasped for breath and chanted _'What have I done?'_ over and over.

"Not really." Pansy couldn't bring herself to lie.

Draco nodded, and his hand squeezed her arm. "Come on. We better go find the prefects. Oh, and by the way..." Draco pulled a small something from within an inner pocket of his suit jacket. It was a small badge, almost identical to her own, the only difference being his was emblazoned with 'Head Boy'. He looked at her with raised eyebrows.

"Oh, well thank fuck it's you! Can you imagine me living with Finch-Fletchley?" Pansy said with relief.

Draco laughed, "Fuck no!"

"Was yours a bullshit promise to your parents as well?"

"Yep, have you met the Carrows, yet?"

"No, they're just," Pansy's hands air quoted, "-old friends of my dad's-" she snorted, "-apparently."

"They're thick as shit," Draco said before steering her towards the correct carriage. The pair turned and raised a hand each to their fellow Slytherins before climbing onto the train. Pansy and Draco had enough time to quickly charm the blinds across the windows, lock both side doors, and change into their school robes. Neither were particularly bothered about remaining decent in front of the other, having both seen the other in countless versions of undress over the years of their friendship, relationship, and the happy middle they had unspokenly arranged between themselves the previous year.

"Okay, unlock the door," Pansy instructed, pinning her new badge onto the front of her robes.

One by one, the new and remaining prefects started to slowly appear. Pansy kept her eyes firmly on the one side she was sure Granger would appear in, rather looking forward to rubbing the Gryffindor's face in the fact she had the badge that Granger would no doubt have expected to receive.

But no Granger appeared.

 _She's not actually dead, is she?_

In fact, neither Gryffindor seventh-year prefects appeared at all. The Weasley girl, who Draco had dubbed years previously 'Weaslette' had stomped in. Pansy wasn't even certain Weaslette had been a prefect the previous year. She glowered briefly at Pansy and sat with her arms crossed in a clear huff at the Head placements. The train began to move, and Pansy frowned at Draco who shrugged, his brow furrowed. He had clearly also noticed the very obvious lack of both Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley.

Draco turned to Weaslette, "Are your brother and his girlfriend planning to make an appearance anytime soon?"

"Doesn't look like it, Malfoy," Ginny snapped. _Bloody hell, who stuck a wand up your arse?_

Pansy cleared her throat, ready to address the prefects when she was stopped by a knock on the carriage door. Draco frowned again before flicking his wand and swinging the door ajar.

"Errr, is this the prefect's carriage?" Pansy heard a familiar voice query.

 _What on Earth?_

"Yes," Draco retorted, his usual attitude of superiority hanging in the air.

"Right, good. Apparently Ron and Hermione may not be here this year, so McGonagall made me a prefect."

"McGonagall made _you_ a _prefect?_ " Draco snorted and rolled his eyes. "Fucking hell." Draco was scrutinising the newcomer as a tall figure entered the carriage and selected a seat beside Weaslette. "Right. Before we get interrupted _again-"_ Draco said, glaring, "-as you were, Pans."

Pansy, on the other hand, for reasons that were mostly far beyond her comprehension, was less composed

"Huh? Oh right," Pansy fumbled for words, looking down onto the blank timetable she had started to write that morning. She barely saw the parchment, however, her thoughts awry. _Why the hell does Neville fucking Longbottom look really fit?_

Pansy would later ask herself _why_ the appearance of a late Neville Longbottom appearing in the prefect's carriage of the Hogwarts Express had caused her such distraction. _Far more distraction than it warranted, anyway._ She had blundered her way through the meeting, becoming in many ways the polar opposite of the cool, and at times cruel, but collected, persona she'd perfected before even the start of first year. She'd achieved absolutely nothing in her first duty as Head Girl; her timetable had remained blank, and Draco had been forced to take over after ten minutes of Pansy's nonsensical ramblings about irrelevant floor plans.

Right now, however, Pansy's mind was otherwise occupied. The Sorting Ceremony had concluded far sooner than the preceding years.

 _"_ There aren't any Muggle-borns this year, are there?" Daphne whispered to her fellow seventh years. Draco looked silently at his empty plate, shaking his head slowly. The hardened expression on his face having been so perfectly mastered through the years, it was only Pansy that was able to pick up on the sadness in his eyes. Theo glanced at Pansy, with a small smile upon his face, his eyebrows lifted as his shoulders raised in a slight shrug. Pansy knew Theo's dad was close to Lucius Malfoy, though she was sure that Theo's allegiance lay with Draco, and Draco's heart did not lie with Voldemort. Blaise shifted uncomfortably in his seat, where he was sitting directly opposite Daphne and diagonal from Pansy. His dark, sculpted features looked troubled, although his face softened somewhat as Daphne offered him a reassuring smile.

Millicent was seated slightly to Pansy's left and further up the long Slytherin house table next to Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. The latter two sat smirking at Daphne's question. It was always a peculiar sight seeing another person so close to Crabbe and Goyle after years of Hogwarts being incredibly used to seeing Draco's pale face there. According to Daphne's hushed whispers earlier as they climbed into their carriage after leaving the train, Crabbe and Goyle had spent the journey saying very little, but what they _did_ say, involved a tremendous amount of boasting towards their plans to join Voldemort's cause after Hogwarts. Once Pansy and Draco had appeared, after the _terribly flustering_ meeting had long finished and their initial rounds of the train had ended, both boys hadn't said a whole lot as their interest shifted hanging onto everything Draco had said, who, in turn, had barely acknowledged either of them.

At the table, Millicent seemed be attempting to distance herself from both Crabbe and Goyle, and was shifting herself closer to the rest of their friendship group. Her eyes, Pansy noticed, looked worried even when she forced her expression to remain nonplussed. Offering the brunette the hint of a comforting smile, Pansy mouthed a silent, 'You okay?' across the table. The corners of Millicent's mouth twitched, her head bowing into a half nod, a nod that was cut short as Millicent seemed to change her mind, instead she averted Pansy's gaze, and shrugged her shoulders. Pansy didn't press Millicent further, mostly because she knew she felt in a similar bind, they all did.

The Great Hall, which had already had a far more sombre atmosphere than Pansy had seen at Hogwarts as Severus Snape stood up, and lacked the distinct buzz of general chit chat. The absence of prattle had ensured the enormous room was already practically noiseless when the newly appointed headmaster rose to his feet. Pansy swivelled in her seat to allow her eyes to drift the length of the Great Hall., Craning her neck as subtly as she could, she paused when her eyes reached the Gryffindor table, the furthest away from the Slytherins. Pansy scanned the Gryffindors, only just making out the red and gold trim of their robes. _Where the hell is-_

Pansy gasped, far more audibly than she would have liked, causing Daphne to dart her head around towards her best friend. Luckily, no one but Daphne and Draco seemed to have noticed, the latter's eyebrows practically disappearing into his hairline. Draco's own gaze had followed Pansy's instantaneously, and he had become aware, just as Pansy had, from across the sea of Hogwarts students that Neville Longbottom was watching the Pansy intently.

"What?" Daphne was spinning her head around, oblivious.

"Nothing," Pansy whispered, feeling an embarrassing warmth spread over her cheeks.

"Bullshit!" Daphne's tone was far louder than Pansy felt comfortable with, "What is it?"

"Daphne, shut up!" Pansy hissed back. "Watch Professor Snape, look," she said as she gestured towards the High Table. Daphne narrowed her eyes into an expression Pansy was all too familiar with, an expression she knew meant that Daphne would not rest until she got what she wanted, or in this case, when she knew what she wanted to know. _Fucking Longbottom!_

"-in turn, it is the job of both Professors Carrow to report to myself whenever I may be-" Pansy became aware, all of a sudden that she hadn't paid Professor Snape's speech an iota of attention. _Well, that's definitely Longbottom's fault,_ "-unavailable." Snape elongated the last word as his dark eyes washed over the students, his expression incomprehensible. Pansy watched as Snape strode back to his seat, which, until that night the previous year, had always been occupied by Professor Dumbledore. Pansy was never a _fan_ of Dumbledore per se, and she'd known early in the year that Draco had been assigned the ridiculous task of killing him, but it had just never seemed plausible the old man would perish. Both her and Draco had known, deep down, that Draco wouldn't have been able to carry it out. She'd cried for him many times, always alone, wondering what would happen when Draco had failed the impossible assignment. At the time, all she could do for the boy she cared so deeply for was to keep his bed warm and provide an uncomplicated, painless distraction.

Pansy looked at the two seats adjacent to Professor Snape's; she didn't recognise the occupants but knew instantaneously who they must be: _the infamous Carrows._ Both Amycus, and his sister Alecto alike, were rather unremarkable in appearance; Amycus was a rather foul-tempered looking middle-aged man, Alecto an equally foul-tempered looking middle-aged woman.

At the precise moment Snape's heavily cloaked behind was back in his chair, the serving plates in the middle of each table suddenly filled with a number of house-elf prepared food. A small murmuring began to fill the atmosphere. It was still a distinct difference in volume from previous years, where the din of hundreds of voices could become overwhelming. Tonight, the student body as a whole was reserved in its chatter as though the starting of the school year was a strain. _Because it_ is _a strain_ , Pansy thought, suddenly, the truth of her realisation hitting her with a jolt.

Pansy chewed her fingernails whilst everyone around her munched on the food. She wished nothing more than the opportunity to bury her face in her hands and either scream or cry, possibly both.

"Pans?"

Pansy wasn't aware how long she had spent doing nothing, her mind a whirlwind of everything and nothing. When she realised Daphne's hand was resting on her elbow, Pansy's eyes flickered between Daphne's face and her hand.

"It's all going to shit, Daph."

"I know," Daphne's reply was soft, and her eyes understanding. She turned her head to look at the two boys sitting opposite them, a worried expression clouding her perfect face.

Blaise sent Daphne a glance of understanding, before turning to Pansy, "We've got you Pans." Pansy nodded, grateful for his sincerity. Despite knowing her eyes had become visibly watery, she managed to present Blaise with a small smile. Draco's stormy grey eyes regarded Pansy soundlessly, yet still telling her a thousand truths. _He gets it._

"You've got to eat," Draco informed her, matter-of-factly. Pansy looked down at her empty plate, preparing to shake her head. "Eat," Draco repeated, sternly, still scrutinising her.

"Here." Daphne had taken Pansy's plate and had busied herself piling small amounts of various dishes onto it, "Draco's right." She placed the filled plate back into its space in front of Pansy before drawing her wand from her robes. "Close your eyes," she instructed as Pansy's eyes snapped shut. She became aware of a slight tingling sensation covering her eyelids. She knew Daphne had magically cooled her face to help omit any signs of her tearful episode. Something the two best friends had perfected two years prior; Daphne because she has, according to herself, 'a very ugly cry-face', and Pansy because _a face with tears is not a pretty one._

"Eat," Daphne repeated Draco's previous advice.

"Okay," Pansy replied softly, knowing she was clearly defeated and not believing for a second that Daphne wasn't above force feeding. She took a small bite of an indistinguishable white meat.

 _Fucking war._

 _Fucking Rabastan's impending letters._

 _Fucking Death Eater father._

 _Fucking Carrows._

 _Fucking...Longbottom._

Pansy's cheeks flushed a deep scarlet as the thought crossed her mind and she took a large gulp of pumpkin juice, grateful none of her friends were accomplished Legilimens, as she willed her face to return to its usual colouring.

* * *

"Well-" Later that evening, Draco paused as he scanned the small, dimly lit living area, "-this is…" he gestured his hands in circular motions, clearly failing to think of a positive adjective to describe their surroundings.

"-cosy?" Pansy ventured. Her eyes were wide, and her face was distraught. Her expression was almost one of fearfulness as she mimicked Draco's visual browsing of the Head Boy and Girl's shared common room. _This is not home,_ she thought sadly.

"I don't like _cosy_." Draco's voice was laced with a trademark whining tone Pansy hadn't heard for a while. _He used to reserve it for moaning about Potter,_ Pansy thought with a sudden urge to snort with laughter.

"I like _Slytherin,_ and this shit-" he continued, gesturing some more, his hands becoming more and more frantic as the conversation went on, "-looks like the setting for a fucking Hufflepuff's tea party." As he spoke the last few words Draco pointed to a small, framed print that was currently situated behind Pansy's head. She spun around and was met with a picture of three large cupcakes, patterned pink and white. It didn't match the pale blue wall on which it was hung upon in the slightest, she grimaced at the garish image before turning back towards Draco. "It's not really _us,"_ she had to agree.

"Not really," Draco began, clearly abashed. By this point, Draco's hand gestures had crescendoed into large, frantic arm movements as he began to stomp around the small sitting room. His thrashing, Pansy realised, cocking her head, made him rather resemble a skinny, pale whomping willow. "NOT REALLY US!? You're bloody right it's _not really us._ " At this point, Pansy was struggling terribly to keep a straight face, even in spite of her near breakdown only an hour or so ago at the feast.She was consumed with her seemingly constant inner struggles with everything she, her friends, and the whole of Wizarding Britain were facing. Plus, it really irked her that she had been unnecessarily made Head Girl for her father's purposes and not her merit. This, in turn, had forced her into living away from her solitude of her beloved Slytherin homestead and its large windows that looked directly into the lake. It was a view which Pansy had always been utterly convinced could cure a number of ailments just from its overwhelmingly calming presence. Not to mention how she would miss the bed she'd slept in for six consecutive years which stood, now empty, next to Daphne's. Despite all of these troubles, Pansy still found herself trying not to laugh at Draco's current tantrumming.

Professor McGonagall had found the pair directly after the feast had finished, and informed them sternly as she regarded the two coolly over her spectacles of the location of their new living quarters. They had found their dormitories hidden behind a painting on the third floor, which featured, of all things, a cow field. The third cow from the left had to be tapped three times with either the Head Boy or Girl's wand, and a password spoken allowed. Once the cow had been tapped, a door had appeared magically in the stone, the painting directly in the centre of the top of the door, which had required no assistance in opening inwards. The two friends had stepped through a small hallway into…

"...the most hideous room I've _ever_ been unfortunate enough to occupy. Seriously, Pans they expect us to _live_ here." Draco droned, clearly with no intention of giving up his tangent. He poked his right index finger into the back of the couch, a gaudy piece of furniture, fashioned in a faded mauve-coloured fabric _,_ as he simultaneously shook his head. _I'll give him that. That couch is fucking horrendous._ Pansy looked at her surroundings once more, her demeanour sorrowful and her heart heavy, wondering to herself what Daphne and the others were doing at that moment. She was already missing her underwater home more than she'd ever let on.

"Come on," Pansy said, to a still irate Draco, "let's check out our rooms."

"Oh, hold me back," Draco snapped as he trudged towards to far end of the living room and exited through the only other door, muttering grumpily. Pansy was certain she heard the words ' _my father',_ and had to stifle yet another desire to laugh.

The door led to a small hallway, with were two more doors on either side, the right-hand one stood ajar and Pansy became aware of the sound of kitchen drawers opening and then slamming shut again. " _-for fuck's sake,_ " she heard Draco muttering. Pushing the door further open, Pansy watched silently as a thunderous Draco was opening every drawer and cupboard the small kitchen housed with such maniacal ferocity it was a wonder the runners and hinges were still intact.

He stopped and looked Pansy, shaking his head seriously. "Pans, I'm not being funny, but this kitchen is the colour of hippogriff piss." Examining the wall coverings for the first time, Pansy took a deep breath inwards and found herself almost choking at the sight; the kitchen was indeed decorated in the rather questionable colour scheme of the brightest yellow the witch had ever seen. _Bloody hell, who decorated this nauseating nightmare?_ "-and all the shit in here," Draco continued, gesturing at the right-hand wall, which housed the majority of the drawers and cupboards he'd been hurriedly investigating, "-looks about 150 bloody years old. Look!" He pulled out a small saucepan - which, once upon a time, Pansy supposed had been silver. The pan was now, however, coated with a sizeable covering of rust. Draco brandished it in Pansy's face, causing her nose to wrinkle in disgust. Her wide eyes met Draco's; two wild, grey thunderstorms that bored right into her, the way they always had. Pansy knew it wasn't necessary to explain her coming sentiment:

"Fuck."

"Yes," Draco nodded in agreement, "Fuck."

The rest of the tour of the Head's Quarters continued in a similar vein. Draco's metaphorical cage was rattled even more after exiting the bathroom which was situated directly opposite the kitchen, an ugly, dated green affair, which supplied a bath suite in an even uglier shade of green.

"You know my spew is usually a nicer colour than _that,"_ Draco had spoken, clearly disgusted, pointing at the bathtub.

"Unfortunately for me, Draco, I did know that," Pansy stated, gulping slowly, attempting to process the fact that she was going to have to use this bathroom. _Well, maybe not that often._ "We're still entitled to use the prefect's bathroom."

"Thank Salazar for that!"

The bedrooms were at the top of a small staircase. The allocated sleeping quarters were decorated in deep burgundy colouring, with bright red accents throughout the curtains and bedding. Pansy swallowed hard. _This is not home._

From the window she was able to see a small fraction of the Quidditch pitch, an assortment of rolling green hills, and a small portion of the greenhouses. _I can't even see the lake,_ she observed to herself, dismally.

She was only jolted out of her wallowing by Draco's hand placing itself onto her shoulder.

"Agh! Draco! I didn't even hear you come in, you prat!"

Draco pulled a smirk Pansy knew all too well.

"That's not funny," Pansy pouted at him.

Draco's eyebrows raised comically in blatant disagreement. Pansy scowled at her friend.

"I realised something," Draco began.

Pansy cut him off. "Was it that you're not funny?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm hilarious," Draco paused, enabling himself to step away from Pansy's oncoming swat to his arm. "No, just the final kick in the arse at the prospect of living in this dump for a year."

"Is it just you realising that we do, in fact, have to live in this dump for a year?"

"Close," Draco sniggered.

 _At least he's stopped throwing a Daphne Drama._

"Enlighten me then, what is the final kick in the arse at the prospect of living in this dump for a year?"

"Haven't you noticed the insultingly shit colour scheme?"

"In the kitchen?" Pansy shuddered as she remembered the buttercup-coloured walls.

"In the everything. Think about it, what colour is the living room?"

Pansy remembered the tired-looking powdered blue painted walls.

"Blue."

"Correct. Now, we won't even mention the kitchen as I doubt either of us will forget _that_ heap of shit in a hurry. Now," Draco gestured around the bedroom surrounding them. A rush of understanding washed over Pansy, her eyes widening with the realisation as she examined her burgundy bedroom.

"Those pricks! They've made Slytherin that ugly fucking bog!"

Draco's eyebrows were raised once more, nodding in an expression of disdainful agreement covering his pale features. "Drink?"

"What've you got?"

"Well, Pans, that all depends."

Pansy spun in the doorway of her new bedroom. "On _what_ exactly?"

"Well, I _might_ have some rather fine Bungbarrel Spiced mead, and I _might_ have some even finer fifty-year-old Danish firewhisky, but whether or not I choose to share depends on you."

 _Oh, you are going to share._ Pansy deliberated her answer for a few seconds before deciding to humour him, "Depends on me _how_ exactly?"

Draco walked towards the door and Pansy slowly. Grey eyes meeting green, his head cocked to the side but his eyes remained intently on her own. His top teeth bit down on his lower lip before flashing her a slight, cocky smile. _Very predictable, Draco._ Pansy rolled her eyes at the sheer entitlement of his terribly annoying confidence. Draco was level with her now, and he sidestepped past the witch nodding his head in the direction of the staircase, inviting her to follow him. "You can have as much booze as you want-" Draco moved into the landing, turned and stepped down onto the second step. "-once you explain to me why the hell you suddenly want to bone Longbottom."


	8. Stared Right Back

.

* * *

Part One | Strike the Match

Eight. _Stared Right Back_

* * *

The following morning Pansy awoke with a blinding headache, an incredibly dry mouth and her own startled scream.

The first two could absolutely be attributed to the fact that the previous night she and Draco had managed to demolish the majority of the alcohol that Draco had managed to sneak into Hogwarts. The third, her scream, was due to the fact she'd opened her eyes and remembered straight away that she was going to see the vile, pale blue living area she was now expected to call home. She was, therefore, wholly unprepared for what awaited beyond her eyelids and the sight of an unfamiliar house-elf's face perched merely two inches away from her own.

"AHHHHHHHH!" Pansy jumped to her feet, knocking the house-elf backwards as she attempted to locate her wand. "What the fuck? WHERE'S MY FUCKING- _ACCIO_ _WAND_!"

 _Hey, it worked!_ Pansy stopped, taken aback and pleasantly surprised at her non-verbal skill as her wand flew into her hand. She became aware, all of a sudden, that a certain somebody was now standing beside her. Pansy turned to face Draco.

 _Oh, he looks mad!_

"If it isn't too much to ask-" growled Draco, clutching his own wand, "-i'd prefer _not_ to be woken up by you giving me a fucking heart attack. Why the hell are you screaming the bloody place down? I mean-" Draco stopped, looking around dismally, his gaze landing on the cupcake picture. "Merlin, I forgot about _that._ Don't get me wrong, screaming the place down would probably be an improvement to this dump, but still."

Pansy gasped, her hand involuntarily smacking her own forehead as she realised she'd momentarily forgotten about the pair of large, slightly bloodshot brown eyes that had caused her such alarm. "An elf!" she shrieked.

Blinking, an unamused Draco looked Pansy up and down. "Are you still drunk?"

"What? No! Draco! There was an elf _here!"_ Her voice still slightly hysterical, she emphasised the last word, willing Draco to believe her. His expression had since shifted to one of amusement, "Draco, it's face was in my face!" At this, Draco outright laughed. _Bastard._

"You found something stronger once I'd passed out, didn't you?" Draco slouched back into the armchair he'd spent the night in, circling his neck whilst simultaneously rubbing his shoulders.

Pansy ignored him, her eyes darting around the living area, an uneasy feeling subconsciously creeping up on her. Her brow furrowed.

 _What the fuck?_

Stomping through the door, Pansy now held a newfound determination to find the _definitely real_ elf. The kitchen door was already open, and Pansy could see the room was clearly vacant.

 _Where is that fucking elf?_

"Arghhhhh!" Pansy had just entered the small bathroom, attempting, rather unsuccessfully, to convince herself that she really shouldn't check the bath, when Draco's shout caused her, without thinking, to run back to the living room.

Draco was standing upright, his right hand grasped his wand while his left clutched a long, oval-shaped ear, reminiscent to that of a long-eared rabbit. However, attached to the ear, was not a rabbit, and instead, was…

"The elf! I told you it was here!"

Draco was looking completely abashed. "I closed my eyes for one fucking second and felt it-" Draco's face crumpling into a disdainful sneer, he continued, his voice rife with disgust, "- _breathing_ on me. And it's face was in my face!"

 _Oh, really?_

"Oh, was it?" Pansy's eyes narrowed, as she sarcastically replied, "I can't possibly imagine what that's like. Oh, tell you what. Why don't I _just laugh. At. You. Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha!"_

"Very mature, Pansy."

 _You literally threw a tantrum last night!_

The house-elf was gazing up at the Draco through its oversized eyes, it gave a tiny smile which caused Draco's own eyes to widen, a look of alarm crossing his pale face. He turned to Pansy, clearly without any inkling of what his next course of action should be.

Draco paused for an incredibly long minute as the house-elf swayed slightly from its current, awkward, position. "What is it doing here?" he hissed at Pansy

 _Well, this is new._

Until that moment, Pansy had felt fairly confident that she'd seen Draco Malfoy in almost every predicament possible. However, she felt entirely sure that this was the first instance where she'd witnessed her old friend, not only apparently at a loss for either words or actions, but with a strange house-elf swinging from his person. She pursed her lips together, willing herself not to burst into laughter at the unfolding scene.

"You are aware, are you not, Draco, that I know precisely as much you do right now regarding this-" Pansy gestured vaguely, "-elf's presence here. Also, house elves do, actually, possess mouths, and do, in fact, have the ability to speak," Draco narrowed his eyes, glaring at Pansy. Unaffected by his current frown, she continued, "And for Merlin's sake put it down, you look fucking insane."

Draco did unclench his fist, he did not, however, bother to move his hand downwards at all and the elf hit the floor with a, surprising, for its size, loud thud.

"What is wrong with you, Draco!?" Pansy demanded haughtily as she elbowed past him and kneeled in front of the elf. The big brown eyes, now watering, blinked up at her. "Say sorry!" Pansy snapped at Draco.

"I will do no such-"

"SAY SORRY!" Pansy heard her voice shout, enraged as she pulled the small elf to its feet.

"Fucking Merlin, Pansy. Alright-", Draco sighed deeply. He had pinched the bridge of his nose and was shaking his head. "Unbelievable, a bloody _house-elf."_ He sighed once more and snapped an unconvincing, "Sorry."

Draco moved backwards a few steps, reaching his armchair once more and folded himself into it. "Since when do you care so much about house-elves?"

 _Since a house-elf was the first anything to show me any fucking kindness, you insufferable prick._ Pansy daren't say the thought aloud. She looked at the elf in front of her, it's face had momentarily shifted into an image of Tula, the Greengrass's elf.

"You just shouldn't have _dropped_ it like that," Pansy mumbled, embarrassed by her earlier outburst, though slightly impressed that she'd managed to get Draco Malfoy to apologise to a creature she knew he felt a sickening amount of superiority over. She turned her attention back to the house-elf. "What's, err, your name?"

"Pansy, what in Merlin's name?" she heard Draco murmur from the armchair he'd obviously sunk back into.

"Winky, Miss. I have been assigned to attend to the Head Boy and Girl this year."

"Attend to us?"

"Indeed, Miss. Every year one of the Hogwarts elves is assigned to the Head Boy and Girl."

"Oh, err, Winky, I didn't know that. Where did you disappear to this morning, after you, umm, woke me up?"

"I hid, Miss," Winky replied, simply.

"Right, and why exactly did you wake me up?"

"Oh, because classes were starting in twenty minutes, Miss, and Winky didn't want to see you and Sir-" she peered over Pansy, at Draco "-to be late."

"Oh right, okay, uhh that was very, uhh-" Pansy stopped, properly taking stock of Winky's words and spun around frantically to look at Draco.

"FUCK!" the pair shouted in unison, both jumping to their feet. " _ACCIO_ UNIFORM!" bellowed from both Pansy and Draco's mouths.

"Miss and Sir had better hurry. First lesson is beginning now, Winky believes."

 _Oh, bloody hell._

It took approximately five minutes for both to be appropriately dressed, their badges neatly attached. As they approached the door to the rest of the castle, two distinct things happened; both Pansy and Draco's new timetables magically appeared in their respective hands, and Pansy spun on the spot to stare at Draco, as he let out a bark of laughter.

"What?" she snapped

"Forget to touch up another glamour, did we?"

"What are you talking-" Pansy's hand shot to her mouth. "-oh no no no no!" She dug quickly in her bag for a small compact mirror and was greeted with her face encircled by her Daphne-induced bright green hair, Draco having assumed correctly that the glamour had since worn off.

"Not a word." Pansy glared at Draco, somehow managing to successfully charm the tricky spell back in place for the first time.

Draco was holding his hands up in mock defeat, "Fine, fine. But you'll be telling me the story later."

"Daphne was drunk. There's your story."

Pansy scanned her timetable as Draco chuckled behind her.

 _I swear to Merlin if I got ready in thirty seconds flat and I've actually got a free period, I'm going to scream._

As it turned out, both Pansy and Draco had probably the worst class possible to be late for, considering what the classroom was located. Letting out a groan they started off down the corridor.

* * *

" _Fucking, excuse me, Draco? I do not want to bone Longbottom!" Pansy had felt her cheeks redden and noticed her voice had become several octaves higher in pitch._

Fuck.

" _Ah, that's a shame Pans, no booze for you then." Draco snorted as he took off down the remaining steps. Reaching the bottom, he turned to face Pansy, his eyebrows raised, "You know it's wrong to lie, right?"_

 _Pansy flew, enraged, down the staircase after him, "Draco, that's not even funny."_

" _It's not supposed to be funny." Draco paused upon entering the living area. "You really gonna deny it? I've seen you eye-fuck him about ten times already."_

" _I do not eye-fuck."_

" _Yes, you do. You used to eye-fuck me-" Draco retorted, matter-of-factly as he smirked, "-and now, apparently, you eye-fuck Longbottom."_

 _Pansy gaped at Draco, incredulously. "I do not-"_

" _Look, it's fine. You can still have a drink, I know I won." Draco's smirk was becoming incredibly insufferable._

" _What do you-"_

 _Draco interrupted and sighed, "You really need me to prove it to you?" The Head Boy raised his eyebrows as he leaned casually, arms crossed, against a wall. "Well, firstly, when Pansy Parkinson gets embarrassed, her face turns a rather unflattering shade of red. Had I said, say, you want to bone Snape, or Crabbe, for instance, you wouldn't have turned red, because that wouldn't have embarrassed you. Strike One." Draco held up his right index finger as Pansy glared, primarily at Draco but also because of the annoying heat that she could feel on her cheeks._

" _Secondly, when Pansy Parkinson tries to lie, she- okay, actually I'll rephrase. When Pansy Parkinson tries to lie_ to me _, her voice becomes this squeaky-" Draco was now imitating Pansy's high-pitched tone, "-horrible sound. Strike two."_

" _You're ridiculous."_

" _And thirdly," Draco continued, ignoring her, now holding up his index and middle finger._

Oh, there's a third bullshit point?

" _When Pansy Parkinson is told to admit she wants to shag someone in exchange for a drink, she goes along with it. Remember in fifth year, when you tried to convince us all how much you'd love to have an orgy with the Weasels? Just so you'd get a shot? Yeah, strike three."_

That was entirely different.

" _You haven't got a fucking clue what you're talking about," Pansy snapped, as Draco added in his ring finger to his fucking ridiculous strike nonsense._ What even is a strike?

 _He handed her the brown bottle he'd been turning over in his hands, and with a wink said, "It's alright Pans. Hey! He's even Sacred Twenty-Eight!" And with that, Draco Malfoy could stop himself no longer, as his body shook with uncontrollable laughter._

" _Fuck you."_

 _The pair, finally able to catch up properly, spent most of the night talking and drinking. Despite the fact that classes began again the very next morning, neither wanted to go to bed, and so they stayed. Draco claimed the armchair, proclaiming it was slightly less hideous than the couch, and Pansy lounged on said ugly couch, summoning her pillows and duvet from upstairs, and the two old friends talked for hours. Draco told a horrified Pansy all about how Voldemort had all but moved into the Manor during the holidays, and about the happenings at the Death Eater meetings he was expected to attend. At the mention of the meetings, Pansy's expression dropped and Draco seemed to know in an instant that she was already aware of what Pansy suspected he'd been nervous to tell her._

" _I'm sorry, Pans, he took the Mark at the start of summer," he paused, knowing she would have questions, and continued before she had the chance to ask, "I couldn't write. They intercepted all the owls-" he broke off, his voice quieting as he grimaced at the memory. "-he barely even sleeps, you know, and he was always bloody_ there _." Draco shook his head and his eyes met Pansy's. She nodded, managing a meagre half a smile._

" _Did you manage to get any better at Occlumency?" Pansy acquired, knowing that Draco had spent some of his dwindling amounts of spare time devoted to closing his mind as much as possible during last year. Pansy had provided the Legilimens needed for Draco to practise the warding off of the spell. However, she, not being a particularly formidable opponent, doubted whether she actually made any difference to his improvement at the skill._

" _Yes, actually," Draco replied, almost sounding surprised himself. "Lovely Aunt Bella has been teaching me, and believe me, she's a lot harder to keep out than you were. You know, I reckon I could probably teach you how actually. At least a bit."_

" _Probably a good idea, thanks."_

" _No problem."_

" _It'll be okay, in the end though, won't it? I mean, what does He even plan to do about Hogwarts, and-" she paused to take a deep breath, terrified of the answer to the question she knew she had to ask, "-us?"_

" _I don't know. I do know we're expected to be-" his face twisting into a grimace at his own words, "-_ loyal followers _." Draco continued, his voice steady, though Pansy could see the all too familiar fleeting spurts of panic crossing his eyes. "I don't have a clue what'll happen to Hogwarts, especially if he finds Potter, which will basically end the war. Though Merlin knows where Potter even is. I'll be very shocked if we're all still staying here sitting exams by the summer."_

 _Pansy didn't answer. She, just like the entirety of Wizarding Britain, had no clue where Harry Potter, Ron Weasley or Hermione Granger were. With the exception of the fact the latter actually possessed some brains, she seriously doubted the likelihood that the three teenagers could bring an end to the reign of Lord Voldemort. She sighed and looked into Draco's strained face._

" _Yeah, Pans," Draco finally answered her previous question with an obvious sigh. She knew that in order to give her any sense of surety he was required to lie, but it was a lie she was both willing and needing to hear. "It'll be okay. It's just going to get really, really shit first."_

* * *

It took Pansy and Draco nearly ten minutes of hot-footed marching out the castle and down the grassy slope to reach the greenhouses; both panting and flushed by the time they arrived at their Herbology lesson.

Navigating their way to Greenhouse Three, as the first two appeared deserted, Draco and Pansy walked into the class, Pansy fully expecting the task of arguing her way out of a detention.

"Ah," Professor Sprout nodded. "Head duties?" she enquired.

"Yes, Professor," Pansy heard herself replying.

Professor Sprout nodded again and gestured for them to join their classmates. Neither Daphne, Theo nor Blaise had continued with Herbology past fifth year, so the pair trudged towards Crabbe, Goyle and Millicent, the latter expressing a relieved smile at the sight of Pansy and Draco.

"So," Pansy heard Professor Sprout begin, and she turned to her right as she watched the dumpy, dirt-stained teacher hand a collection of potting trays to Ernie Macmillan, urging him to take one and pass the rest around. "Once you all have your trays, the plants will be passed to this half," Professor Sprout gestured to the opposite side of the bench from Pansy. "It will be your first project as Seventh Years to work out the _type_ of plant, how it should be categorised within a botanical environment, and to nurture it correctly. I will then require each of you to complete three essays; one on general information about your plant, one on its particular uses, and another on any complications that may occur when growing. To save time, you will be partnered up with the person who is currently _opposite_ you."

There was a murmur of general displeasure throughout the room. Draco was facing Susan Bones, neither looking particularly happy at the prospect. Millicent was actually pouting, as she looked at her match, one of the Patil twins. Crabbe and Goyle were being thrust upon Dean Thomas and Lavender Brown, respectively, the latter two looking absolutely horrified. Pansy, however, was trying to focus on breathing correctly, feeling as though she'd been recently winded. She stared across the bench, very briefly into a pair of deep blue eyes, as Neville Longbottom stared right back.


	9. A Small Potted Plant

.

* * *

Part One | Strike the Match

Nine. _A Small Potted Plant_

* * *

A small potted plant was placed in the centre of the metre-wide bench which ran the middle of the Greenhouse. Pansy examined it with far more apparent interest than the witch would usually have granted the current Herbology assignment. Or, she would have been, if the curiosity that was seemingly written across her face was, in fact, truly interest or curiosity. In reality, it was neither, and was masking a gripping and oddly forceful amount of curious nervousness.

 _Why did it have to be fucking Longbottom?_

Pansy uncomfortably shifted her gaze to the parchment Professor Sprout had placed in front of her a few moments previously; forcing her features to emulate an identical expression of the same feigned interest.

 _For fuck's sake, look at him._

Dazedly ignoring her own instructions, Pansy's eyes, entirely of their own volition, apparently believed it necessary to, once again, stare intently at the potted plant.

 _...It is kind of interesting how its leaves are blue when the flowers are green..._

 _What the hell am I doing?_

 _...you don't see that much with plants…_

 _Pansy, pull yourself together!_

 _...usually the leaves are always green, even with magical plants…_

 _Yep, I'm officially going mad._

 _Fucking Longbottom._

Pansy's internal squabble was temporarily interrupted by a collective shuffling of bodies, along with a small murmur of voices. Confused, she watched her classmates begin to realign themselves around the bench.

 _Errrrr…_

Feeling a nudge against her elbow, Pansy whirled around to her left whilst she attempted to mentally work out how to decelerate one's heart rate and found herself face to face with Draco, who was staring at her with a particularly aggravating smirk.

"Good luck!" Draco called in mock cheerfulness.

 _Why do I even like you?_

Narrowing her eyes at the blonde, Pansy risked formulating her fingers into the childish, Muggle 'V' insult, knowing the sheer immaturity of the act would annoy Draco more than any words she could choose would.

The noise of a throat being cleared knocked all annoyance for Draco from Pansy's consciousness.

"Uhh, hey." A deep, unsure voice ventured from behind her.

 _Oh, Merlin._

Pansy turned slowly, knowing without a doubt what awaited her sights. Neville Longbottom stood, awkward, yet somehow a lot surer of himself than Pansy had seen him look before. She swallowed as she scanned his stature, concentrating hard to not appear as though she was staring, yet unable to avert her eyes from the Gryffindor.

It would have been hard for anyone to deny that puberty had been extraordinarily kind to one Neville Longbottom; his once round, dopey face now hosted the strongest jawline Pansy had ever seen; a thin carpet of stubble graced its way along that same jawline. His eyes, Pansy assumed, had probably always been the same shade of blue, yet the way his firm brows now hooded them was nothing short of some kind of unexplainable witchcraft as yet unknown to the Wizarding World. At present, those brows were furrowed, causing several lines to cross his forehead; lines that Pansy would usually never even consider to be an attractive feature, however, on Longbottom, they just seemed to suit him all the more. And then...there was the way he held himself, in the troubling times they now lived in...there was _something else_ there.

"Oh."

 _Oh. Yes, Pansy. Fantastic fucking start._

Trying her opening line once more, Pansy exhaled and retorted, "Yeah, hi."

 _Do I always sound so fucking bitchy?_

At her words, Neville's expression, which Pansy, despite her intense scrutinising of his face, hadn't picked up on, seemed to disappointedly fall.

 _Fuck._

Deciding she needed to move forward with a new tactic, Pansy ventured a small smile towards Neville. Unfortunately for the witch, however, smiles were not amongst the array of expressions that came particularly natural to Pansy, and, upon execution, Neville no longer looked disappointed...

 _He looks insulted! Oh fuck, he thinks I'm smirking at him._

"Shall we?" Neville asked, his voice dry, as he gestured vaguely, and summoned the small blue and green plant. Pansy nodded, crestfallen. Not entirely sure what she had been hoping to achieve from this exchange.

 _It's not as if anything can happen._

 _Not as if I would ever, ever want anything to happen._

Pansy Parkinson having _anything_ to do with Neville Longbottom was laughable, Pansy knew that. The Royal Bitch of Slytherin, she'd been dubbed on plenty of occasions, a title she herself knew was fitting, and... _Longbottom_? She and Daphne had spent the first four years of their education referring to him as ' _Fat Arse'._ Pansy felt her face burn as dozens of memories flooded the forefront of her mind where she'd insulted the boy both privately and not-so-privately. She gazed, once again at the small plant, barely seeing it.

 _Not that it matters...at all._

She looked up, catching sight of a grumpy-looking Draco. Once upon a time, his current brooding expression would have sent both Pansy's mind and heart rate into overdrive, now, however, it did nothing more than cause mild amusement. The amusement was enhanced by the equally grumpy looking Susan Bones, who, as a typical Hufflepuff had a tendency to look overwhelmingly and annoyingly cheery about anything and everything. She knew then- and if she was entirely honest with herself, she'd known for a long while, that nothing further would ever happen romantically with her and Draco. She loved him, and he, her. Last year, Pansy knew, Draco's struggle both physically and emotionally with his mission to repair the vanishing cabinet and eventually kill Albus Dumbledore had solidified that fact. But she knew the feelings for her to carry on, even to continue to have the most casual of relationships with him, were no longer there.

There was no doubt that whatever was currently going on in Pansy's brain right now, was doing so without her consent. Her mind's eye, which she knew would be far better off acknowledging the intense guilt at her former treatment of the tall wizard standing in front of her, had instead, entirely of its own volition, drifted rather easily away from Draco. Now it had settled into some unknown, parallel universe in which Pansy was able to run her fingers and possibly her tongue, through Neville's copious, yet modest amount of stubble, only interrupted when she became aware that the real Neville, _who occupied her own universe, and not the sexy, stubble land she'd been imagining_ , had been talking.

"-so basically I'm pretty sure that it's in that book, so I could probably have the assignment done tonight."

 _What?_

"What?" Pansy repeated the question, out loud this time, dumbly.

"Did you hear any part of what I just said?" Neville asked

 _He doesn't even ask rudely, and I can't manage to say 'What?' without sounding like he pissed in my cornflakes._

"Errr... the last part," Pansy answered honestly, "I, err, sorry. I was miles away…"

 _Well, that's not entirely a lie…_

At the mention of the word 'sorry' emerging from Pansy's mouth, Neville's own dropped open, and his eyebrows raised so high into his hairline Pansy was surprised they were still residing on his forehead.

"No-" Neville's eyes had narrowed, suspiciously - yet not unkindly, and Pansy saw him swallow hard. "-problem."

 _Thank Merlin!_

Neville's eyes didn't leave her own, even when Pansy's eyes were occupied watching the corners of his mouth turning up slightly. She wanted to offer her own smile in return but was inherently afraid of appearing the same smirking bitch she knew he still viewed her as. Looking away, Pansy knew she was blushing and became aware, all of a sudden, that her mouth had, in fact, been smiling softly of its' own accord.

"Or, we could do it together, properly," Neville suddenly interjected.

 _Excuse me. We could what now?_

"Huh?" Pansy's head rushed to stare at Neville, unblinking. Not knowing whether to be alarmed or turned on; in reality she knew she was both.

Pansy straightened her back, forcing her nerves to the depths of her mind and trying to bring forth a reluctant confidence she doubted was even there. This was the part she knew she was good at, and if _Neville Longbottom,_ of all people, could be so upfront, then so could she - she hoped. She personally wouldn't have approached such a concept so quickly, but she couldn't deny she wasn't incredibly tempted.

Pansy bit her lip, hoping she looked anything other than the bag of nerves she currently was and forced herself to look back into his eyes, before questioning his own words slowly and directly back towards him. "Do...It...Properly?"

"Yeah, the assignment-" he pointed towards their potted plant, "-instead of me just doing it with my book. We'll research it properly, you know? It might not even be the right plant in the book I'm thinking about, so it makes more sense for us to just do it that way."

 _Oh._

Pansy blinked several times, before spluttering something she was convinced was barely audible English about that being fine by her.

The rest of the lesson passed in an awkward blur, and it became apparent to Pansy, rather quickly, that she and Neville had a grand total of zero topics of which they could discuss; which would have been bad enough, however coupled with the fact that any time any of Neville's friends spoke to him they flashed Pansy a look not dissimilar to one that wouldn't be out of place being directed towards a Blast-Ended Skrewt, and so Pansy felt thoroughly downtrodden. It also was no help to her mood that she knew, more than likely, she deserved the snide glances, having spent every other school year with these individuals giving them mostly undeserved grief.

 _Except you, you stupid Irish pillock._ Pansy glared right back at Seamus Finnegan after the third time he'd disdainfully looked her up and down. _I should rearrange your facial features just for breathing._

The loud school bell then rang and Pansy, throat dry, thrust a hurried, "See you later," towards Neville and hurried across the Greenhouse to the door without waiting for a response. Her pace refused to slow even when she heard Draco calling her from somewhere behind, sure his voice was laced with laughter.

Reaching into her bag, Pansy pulled her new time-table out and was incredibly relieved to see that two free periods were sandwiching a break, meaning over two hours of nothingness currently awaited her. She hurried all the way back to the Head Quarters without so much as a backwards glance, refusing to stop until she reached the cow picture.

 _Thank Merlin for free periods._

Draco did catch up with her once they were both back in their new living room, a gleeful grin on his face which usually was reserved for Potter getting into trouble.

"So..." Draco began.

"Shut up."

"I'm just curious…" his hands raised in pretend surrender.

"I said shut up."

"I mean, we can now say _for definite…"_

"Draco, I mean it. Shut the fuck up."

Surprisingly, Draco did shut up, talking that is. However, he replaced his incredibly annoying words with an even more infuriating laughter, which carried on for fifteen minutes straight.

"Fuck you," Pansy snapped, before making the decision to summon Winky, after realising, all of a sudden, that she was ravenous.

 _But, for what exactly?_

 _I'm in trouble._


	10. Not the Brightest Hippogriff in the Herd

Part One | Strike the Match

Ten. _Not the Brightest Hippogriff in the Herd_

* * *

It wasn't until the next day when Pansy really noticed how, even in the short time period of a few lowly days, almost the entirety of Hogwarts seemed distressed _._ Solely walking around a few corridors of the old castle left a significantly gloomy feeling residing over her, and it didn't take a great deal of observation to notice that a number of other students and staff members seemed to feel it, too. The very walls of stone, which had, of course, always been grey in colour, now seemed, if possible, more grey, and even the copious amount of paintings seemed duller than before, as though the ancient building had somehow been plastered with a filter of dreariness.

"Bloody hell, even the _Hufflepuffs_ look miserable," Theo had commented as they finished their lunch on the second day of the term. He ran a hand through his short dark hair, scanning the room, he focused on the yellow and black-clad table before spearing a potato with his knife and poised it in the direction he was looking. This time, his gaze was resting on the Ravenclaw table, and at Luna Lovegood in particular. "Look at Batshit-Crazy Blondie. Now _she_ definitely needs some cheering up." He finished with a smirk and a quick, cocky raise of both eyebrows, now looking across their table at a frowning Pansy.

"You're disgusting," she retorted blandly.

He shot her an over exaggerated wink. "And you're sexy when you're jealous."

"You wish, Nott."

"Maybe-" he threw his left hand, fist clenched in front of him, in a mock-poetic sadness, "-but alas, maiden, you were claimed, many moons ago, by this fair gentleman." At the end of his last word, Theo smacked an unsuspecting Draco on the back, who up until that point had been innocently reading a copy of the morning's _Daily Prophet_ with a somewhat sour expression plastered on his pale face, oblivious to the conversation to begin choking on the mouthful of pumpkin juice he'd just swigged.

 _You really know how to pick your moments, Theo._

"What the fuck was that for?" Draco gasped through sporadic coughs as Theo burst out laughing.

Daphne and Blaise, who, until now had been quietly talking between themselves, along with Millicent, had all simultaneously swivelled their attentions to Draco, who had at least managed to regain control of his breathing, and Theo, who had not.

"Theo here," Pansy gestured vaguely at the occupant of the seat directly in front of her, "seems to believe that you," she jabbed her finger in the direction of Draco's chest, "have _claimed_ me _._ Which is of course crap and _this,"_ her finger this time jabbed towards Theo, who at this point was bright red, banging his fist on the table in an attempt to control his hysteria, "overconfident shit needs to learn that simply being in possession of a vagina and a pulse does not automatically mean that any female will bend over backwards-"

At Pansy's particular choice of phrasing, Theo erupted in a whole new bout of unrelinquishing laughter.

"Oh, Theo, for fuck's sake. Grow up," Pansy snapped. _Oh my Gods, Theo, people are staring._ She nervously glanced around at the other tables, noticing Theo had attracted more than just the closest Slytherin's attentions as she felt Millicent shuffle slightly next to her.

"Bend over backwards!" Theo howled, actual tears streaming from his eyes, barely seeming to notice the school bell signalling the end of lunch, or the shuffling of his friends' bodies as they readied themselves to leave the Great Hall.

"See you later, you daft bastard," Draco patted Theo's convulsing shoulder, shaking his head bemusedly and beginning to walk towards to bottom of the table.

"Will you come to the common room tonight?"

Pansy turned to face Daphne, a hopeful look upon her face as she awaited Pansy's answer. "Yeah, definitely! I need _something_ familiar, and, you know, you!" Smiling softly as Daphne linked her arm through Pansy's own, the familiarity of their old gesture offering a source of well-needed comfort as they began to walk slowly down the hall.

"Do you have a free period now? We do!" Pansy pulled her timetable from her bag and after a second of examining proclaimed that she did have a free period. Both final lessons after lunch it turned out, were free periods, making Pansy an instant fan of Tuesdays. Nodding in response, Pansy felt Daphne's arm tighten around her own.

"Great! So you can just come with us. We're going outside for a bit first and...oh-" Daphne's sentence was halted, her face the picture of bamboozlement as she looked down upon the reason she'd ceased talking. Pansy blinked, her gaze following Daphne's downwards.

"Oh, um... hi, Winky, you alright?"

Winky bowed, both slowly and lowly. The act, and Pansy guessed the mere appearance of the random house-elf, which were not usually seen wandering the castle at all, had caused a number of stares; most of which were directed specifically at Pansy, and generally, she noticed, wore matching looks of annoyance.

 _Oh, bloody hell. Winky get up!_

"Miss," Winky squeaked, finally fully standing, her large eyes their usual watery state. "I have been instructed to enlighten you that Mister and Miss Carrow wish to see you and Sir in their new office, where Headmaster Snape's old office used to be.

"Oh right, okay. Now?" Pansy barely tried to keep the disappointment from her voice.

Pansy was grateful when Draco appeared beside her. "Yes Miss, right away." The elf nodded, causing her long ears to bounce around her head.

"Right, that's just fucking great," Draco growled under his breath, watching as Winky bowed once more before departing.

Pansy and Draco swapped fleeting glances, knowing that they both wanted to visit the Carrows about as much as they wished to be taken on a date by a flobberworm.

"We'd better go. Sorry, Daph."

"No, it's fine, hope it's not too bad. The Carrows look horrible." She added in a whisper, "At least offer to glamour some of the grease out of the woman one's hair." The blonde shot her a quick wink and replaced Pansy's arm with Blaise's before leading the rest of the group away.

"Shall we?" Draco grimaced, mimicking Pansy's expression of disappointment perfectly. Pansy nodded, and they set off - towards the Carrows and uncertainty.

The journey to the Carrows' new office was a short one, despite the fact that both Pansy and Draco walked significantly slower than their usual pace. It was a route they both knew well, and in order to reach the Slytherin common room, the office in question had to be passed and therefore, whether they liked it or not, arrived at their destination far quicker than Pansy would have liked.

They stood, side by side, in front of the office door which neither possessed any desire to knock on, let alone walk through. Draco sighed loudly and shot Pansy a sideways glance.

"Let's get this over with. Brace yourself." He clenched his hand into a fist, ready to knock, before stopping himself and adding, "Oh, and talk slowly, just pretend you're in the company of Crabbe and Goyle." He snorted at his own advice before rapping quickly on the large, wooden door.

Moving inwards, apparently on its own, the door slowly opened. Draco led the way forward, strolling easily through the door with an air of confidence that was not entirely disparate to his usual demeanour but was most certainly, Pansy could tell, an act. She followed Draco's lead, straightening her spine as well she could and pushing her shoulders back. She then converted her expression into a cold, collected, and very well-practised mask of nonchalance. Shooting Draco a quick nod, the pair entered the office together.

Both Amycus and Alecto Carrow were waiting. Two large desks, which had clearly been crammed in the modestly sized room without much prior planning, occupied the majority of the space. _Did I just walk into a cheap Death Eater charity shop?_ The mahogany pieces reminded Pansy of her father's grand office furniture, though it was clear there was no further correlation between the aesthetic of the two studies. This room was one that Pansy had frequented a fair few times in her years at Hogwarts. When Professor Snape had occupied it, the room used to feel cold and uninviting, but its furnishings and items at least matched their surroundings.

The Carrows had since redecorated.

Amycus was leaning slightly against the right-hand desk, his arms crossed loosely over his slim torso. He was a tall, middle-aged man with thick hair that fell in dark waves, framing his white face. The piercing eyes he wore were of a similar blue to Longbottom's, Pansy found herself - for whatever reason she cared not to delve into, quickly noticing, yet they held none of Neville's warmth. Every part of this man screamed ice cold, and Pansy had to force herself to match his frosty stare. Even his lips showed little colour, and his stark jawline, which again Pansy noticed, whilst sincerely wishing she still had the ability to stop herself making embarrassing comparisons to Neville Longbottom, was reminiscent of the strong jawline that Pansy had found herself so attracted to the previous morning. Now, however, this sight evoked an entirely different mental image.

 _Well, you look like a dead fish._

Alecto was sitting behind the second desk, on the left side of the room. She was as pale as her brother, and her eyes were identical to his. Her hair was what separated the pairs looks the most; where Amycus was dark, his hair almost as black as Pansy's own, Alecto had a head of ginger and she wore a slight smile that Pansy was fairly certain was emitting nothing but falseness. The female Carrow, Pansy mused to herself, looked remarkably dumb as she observed the Head Boy and Girl through her own cold, blue eyes.

 _Not the brightest Hippogriff in the herd, are you, love?_

"Well that was a load of shit," Draco remarked bluntly. They were sitting in their living area, having left the meeting with the Carrows half an hour previous. The _meeting,_ if it could accurately be referred to as such, had lasted approximately fifteen minutes, and the Carrows had spent the entire time informing Draco and Pansy that they had several expectations of the two Head students; most notably the demand of help in making the lives of all students who didn't possess a pureblood ancestry an absolute misery. The Cruciatus Curse had even been mentioned, something the Carrows had requested that Draco and Pansy become a lot more accustomed to.

"Look, I've never particularly _liked_ Muggleborns," Pansy stated honestly. She squirmed, slightly uncomfortable admitting the truth aloud, " _but,_ I'm not about to start cursing them to shit. Fucking hell."

"We need to keep up the pretence, Pans," Draco replied, his voice sombre. The firewhisky he had not long before requested from Winky appeared then, bobbing on a small round tray as the elf carried it above her head. Draco swiped the glass in haste and took a deep mouthful. Pansy opened her mouth to argue, but he stopped her with a raise of his free hand. "There might be _something_ we can do, though it'll be difficult to pull off. You're already good at nonverbal…" he trailed off, deep in thought. "We'll need to start working on the Occlumency this week, as well." Pansy knew his deep expression and that it was in her best interests not to pry further and leave him with firewhisky and contemplations for company.

"I'm going to bed," she announced, realising all of a sudden the new reign of Hogwarts, combined with her still present hangover, meant that she was ready to drop, even though it was still only mid-afternoon at most. She _had_ told Daphne that she'd visit the Slytherin common room that evening, but the thought of walking up the stairs to her room was an exhausting one, let alone having to walk to the dungeons. Yawning sleepily, she stood up, hoping Daphne would understand tomorrow.

"Mmmkay." Draco looked up as Pansy busied herself gathering some belongings, readying herself to retreat for the night. "Hey, Muggle Studies with dear Alecto tomorrow morning," he raised his glass in mock celebration.

"Oh, I can hardly contain myself." Her dry retort earned her a snort from Draco as she exited the living room.

Sighing as she sat on her bed and took in the view that was her new bedroom, the room in which Pansy Parkinson questioned almost everything she'd ever known.


	11. Nonverbal If You Have To

Part One | Strike the Match

Eleven. _Nonverbal If You Have To_

* * *

Pansy awoke the next morning with a start, although what caused her to wake was a mystery. Rolling over, she observed the small carriage-style alarm clock on her bedside table, which revealed the time was currently fifteen minutes past six, over a whole hour earlier than she'd actually set the alarm for, and, she realised with a start, a whole _fifteen_ hours since she'd taken herself upstairs to bed. Pansy turned back and sunk her head into her pillows even though she knew she had no hope of getting any more sleep; her thoughts were already too loud, too worrisome, and too downright disturbing to enable any of the quiet calm she knew she would require to doze off, not that she'd need it, considering the amount of time she'd just spent unconscious. Nonetheless, Pansy closed her eyes and stared into the nothingness present behind her eyelids.

She knew roughly what her day entailed, having skimmed her timetable briefly the previous night. Just as Draco had aforementioned, _Muggle Studies_ was printed in the first slot, followed by another free period before break.

 _Should probably use that time to come up with some sort of Prefect schedule… probably should have had that done already._

After hoisting herself out of bed, Pansy wearily made her way to the opposite wall, where a sink stood accompanied by a mirror hanging on the wall above the taps. Examining her reflection, Pansy was met by her bright green locks and rolled her eyes at the sight. Her even paler than usual complexion, coupled with some unexpected dark shadows currently taking up residence under her green eyes - which sported an unflattering puffiness - were the only evidence of the fact that Pansy had ended up crying herself to sleep. _Well, this won't do for the keeping up of any pretence._

A few short days ago, at the feast she'd all but completely broke down and thoroughly lost all of her cool composure that she knew was critical to her fulfilling the role she'd had thrust, albeit unwillingly, upon her, she knew a repeat performance would be suspicious at best, downright dangerous at worst. At this point, the role was integral to her survival. Her father could no longer be thought of with any of her previous trust, which, scarce as it had been, at least _had_ existed in some respect. And Rabastan - the thought of whom still sent an unintentional shiver down her spine, as fleeting as her past meetings with him had been, was not _just_ a Death Eater _,_ not in the same way her father now was, but unhinged and incredibly dangerous He was, she believed, a trusted member of the Dark Lord's inner circle. He'd served time in Azkaban for his devotion to his leader and was an abominable reminder of the world she now existed in.

 _A world that's gone to shit._

She looked back at her reflection once more, grimacing at the shade of her hair, remembering the night only last week, where Daphne had ended up hiding in a sink of all places. Pansy's grimace changed into a smile as she thought of her best friend, and found her thoughts veering to Millicent, Blaise, Theo, and then Draco.

 _There are still some things not shit in the world…_

 _...like Longbottom._

Pansy squeezed her eyes closed, willing herself to stop thinking about Neville Longbottom, which, if anything, only ingrained the image of those blue-

 _...almost impossibly blue…_

-eyes and unbelievably handsome features-

 _...like that jawline..._

-deeper in her mind.

She sighed in an almost annoyed fashion. She hadn't the faintest idea why Neville Longbottom had an unrelinquishing hold upon her consciousness, and it frustrated her, further, to realise he had somehow managed to achieve this before saying more than two words to her alone. Actively shaking herself, Pansy concentrated on mentally and physically readying herself for the day that stretched before her. And certainly _not_ on thoughts of a certain Gryffindor.

Now grateful for the extra hour, Pansy busied herself by showering, gladly finding that Winky had somehow unpacked all of hers and Draco's toiletries in the bathroom. In fact, as she made her way back upstairs towards her bedroom, passing a sleepy-looking Draco, Pansy actually found herself feeling closer to herself since she had arrived back at the castle, and despite the impending Muggle Studies class most likely ensuring that this newfound confidence would be short-lived, Pansy managed to embrace it. She carefully applied her makeup _just so,_ and magically helping her now damp hair to get entirely dry, before Glamouring it back to black and applying some Sleek-Eazy's so it fell, a sleek carpet of night, down her back. Selecting a freshly laundered uniform, a much shorter-than-necessary skirt and the pair of black shoes that donned the highest heels, Attaching her Head Girl badge, Pansy threw her bag over her shoulder and stepped back to examine as much of her appearance as she could in the above-sink mirror. _I got this._

"I got this," she repeated, aloud this time.

"Good for you," her mirror replied.

As she descended the stairs she could hear a faint rustling coming from the living area, indicating that Draco was beyond the door. Throwing it open, her eyes rushed the room and quickly located him, his head turning towards her as she entered. His body was stooped as he closed his bag and picked it up from its previous position on the armchair, not taking his eyes off Pansy as he did so.

"Morning," he said, elongating the 'o' of the word, as he brazenly looked her up and down.

 _Too bad it isn't for you, anymore._

"Put your tongue back in your mouth, loser. Let's get breakfast." And with that, she strode past Draco and vacated their living quarters, a smug smile accompanied the small exhale of breath and a small shake of her head as she realised just how simply the egotistically _male_ part of Draco's brain worked.

"Well, it's about time!" Daphne was stating, as they prepared to leave breakfast. The only notable incident at the mealtime being Theo somehow managing to launch a number of croissants some fifteen feet in the air over a number of student's heads.

They landed somehow, despite Theo's insistence that he'd utilised no magical assistance, on the plates of a number of female students, the furthest away being Parvati Patil, at Gryffindor, and the closest being a surprised looking Millicent, who Pansy watched with interest as a blush appeared on her cheeks as she took a small bite of the croissant.

"That's not the only thing you can put in your mouth, Mills," Theo said with a wink.

The group emitted a collective groan at Theo's words, to which Pansy shook her head, Blaise ventured, "Mate, you are grim." Draco choked on his coffee, and Daphne declared Theo the most disgusting human she'd ever met.

"Hey, Greengrass, you know you never complained last year..." Theo began, laughing as Daphne exhaled loudly from her nose, her eyes ablaze with indignation. It was Blaise, however, that defused the situation in one swift comment of, "Enough, Theo." His deep voice, whilst calm, was lined with a threat that he had no need to say aloud.

"Alright, alright. You know I was only messing!"

"Bite me," Daphne snapped

"I have- Ah! Ow! Okay, okay!" Theo's initial retort had apparently earned him a stinging hex from the end of Blaise's wand.

"Thanks." Daphne smiled sweetly at Blaise

"More than happy to exercise any excuse to hex this fucker," Blaise replied with a smirk and a jerk of his left elbow towards a decidedly grumpier looking Theo, which earned him a solid echo of laughter from Pansy, Daphne, and Draco.

As he stood, Pansy noticed simultaneously a quick flick of Millicent's wand to her left, and a shocked screech from Theo, who was now staring, eyes wide, at Millicent, his palms clutching his buttocks.

Pansy's face turned, impressed, to face Millicent, who raised her eyebrows as her eyes scrutinised Theo. "Not you as well," he grumbled, "and after I gave you a croissant."

Millicent shrugged. "You gave twenty other girls a croissant," she pointed out.

 _She's not wrong there._

"Yours was the nicest." Theo feigned a pout and looked, to Pansy's amusement, momentarily crestfallen as Millicent turned away from him and began to walk down the hall.

"Maybe next time," Pansy murmured to Theo, "try giving her the _only_ croissant."

"Huh," Theo replied, his brows knitting together as he clearly pondered Pansy's words. She watched as Theo's line of sight moved past her, to the still visible view of Millicent, now some ten feet in front of them.

Daphne shot Pansy a wide smile. "It's about time!"

"What is?"

"That we're finally in a class together, of course!"

"Oh right, yeah. Just wish it wasn't Muggle Studies with the Carrow bint."

Daphne snorted. "Ugh! I know! You look hot today, by the way, for anyone's benefit? You wanting to get down and dirty with Mister Malfoy again?"

"Thanks, so do you!"

"Don't ignore me, Parkinson!"

"I think it's on the third floor." Pansy steered them to the right, into the already busy swarm alighting the grand staircase.

"Change the subject, much?" Daphne's eyebrows were so high they were almost blended into her actual hair.

"Ugh! Fine! I'm fighting a deep-seated urge to impress the absolute shit out of Neville Longbottom. Yesterday, I had some serious visuals going on about running my tongue over his jaw."

Daphne burst out laughing. "You're hilarious, you know that? Well, _when_ you eventually want to confess that you _are_ trying to entice Draco...or _whoever,_ into some more freaky frik-frak, let me know."

 _Oh, Daphne...if only you knew I just did._

* * *

Pansy and Daphne were amongst the first to arrive at Muggle Studies. The door was locked, and the pair found themselves standing in the corridor alongside Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown. The rest of the Slytherins arrived behind Pansy and Daphne, along with Finnegan and...Longbottom. The absence of Potter, Weasley, and Granger, along with, Pansy realised with a surprise, Dean Thomas, was more abhorrent than before as she was finally forced face to face with the seventh-year Gryffindors, or, perhaps more accurately, the _lack_ of a few well known seventh-year Gryffindors.

Pansy felt her palms begin to sweat. She clasped Daphne's arm in hers and focussed on her breathing. _I got this,_ she reminded herself, wishing she believed her thoughts.

The classroom door slowly opened, and a black-clad Alecto Carrow stepped forward, a twisted, sinister smile etched on her face. Pansy took a deep breath, fixing her metaphorical mask in place once more and attempted to channel the confidence she'd felt as she left the her bedroom. She looked Alecto up and down, allowing the woman to see her doing so despite the fact that, just like Rabastan, Alecto had served time in Azkaban. Unlike Rabastan, however, Pansy realised she felt very little fear when facing the woman in front of her.

 _Good grief, are you wearing a corset to teach a class?_

Smirking, Pansy walked, still arm in arm with Daphne, around Alecto and entered the classroom. Or it would seem, more accurately; _A fucking shrine to Death Eater Propaganda._

 _Bloody hell._

There were posters and lists covering every inch of the walls of the classroom, most were simply duplicated in order to cover the whole space, and a few were enlarged, their derogatory slogans blazoning from all angles. Pansy looked around at her peers; Daphne's eyes were round as saucers, her free hand clasped over her mouth. Draco showed neither shock nor horror, though his eyebrows were raised slightly. Pansy had heard Theo mutter a strained, "Bloody hell," when they first walked through the door, and Blaise was watching Daphne, his hand resting on her shoulder as he exchanged a small smile with Pansy. Millicent had stopped next to Theo and was scrutinising their surroundings with a frown, and Crabbe and Goyle, alone in the newfound delight present upon their faces, exchanged a look of pure glee at the sight. _Fucking idiots._

Before she'd had a chance to think further, Pansy's eyes had, entirely of their own volition she was certain, sought out Neville, who was wearing a look of outright disgust as he looked around the classroom. Pansy didn't know how long she watched him for but found her eyes somehow, suddenly locked with his, as he averted his gaze from the propaganda and, in a single second, had found her face. His look had shifted to one of surprise as he blinked at the witch, who, even if a fire had broken out beneath her, didn't know whether she could have broken their gaze.

"Right, find a seat. It's time to begin."

And then they both did look away, just like that. She saw, this time from the corner of her eye, him walk to take a seat near Finnegan, and she took the chair that she had already been behind. Bringing her gaze to the front of the room, she felt Daphne's own eyes upon her side, and glancing towards the blonde Daphne hissed, "Holy shit, you were telling the truth!"

"Errrr…"

 _Oh fuck._

Pansy's panic-stricken thoughts were interrupted by a book settling itself on her desk. Looking down, a large, red title read _'My Undertaking'._ The cover also featured a hooded figure atop a hill of, on closer inspection, what turned out to be skulls. _Lovely._ A second item landed on top of the book; this time a small booklet of parchment, entitled _'Muggles: A Study of the Subhuman Populace.' Well, this is worse than I thought._

Using her wand, whilst struggling to keep a look of contempt from her face, Pansy opened her booklet. A contents page came second and reading some of the topics she was now apparently expected to study, Pansy wished she hadn't eaten quite so big a breakfast. Parts of various descriptions jumped out at her sporadically from the page: _...main differences between the superior Wizardkind… ...dangers Muggles pose to a Pureblood Society… ...why mating with Muggles… Oh, for fuck's sake._

"So, boys and girls," Pansy started at Alecto's piercing tone, momentarily forgetting she was somehow supposed to be taught by the dimwitted Death Eater, who was looking around the room with a decidedly happy look thrust upon her face. "this is the first of the mandatory-"

 _Merlin, you know a four syllable word._

"-lesson in _Muggle_ Studies." Giving off the impression that the very word _Muggle_ actually caused a bad taste to materialise in her mouth, Alecto looked from face to face, drifting past the Slytherins and resting her look to Seamus Finnigan and Neville. "Well, you two don't look very _interested_ in this class." She spoke high, in a sing-song way that Pansy knew was solely in place to goad the two Gryffindors.

"Interested?" Spat Neville, and Pansy found herself straightening in her chair. "No, we aren't _interested_."

Alecto's face twisted, a sinister spark appeared behind her eyes as she smiled wider, and without blinking, pointed her wand at Neville. "Crucio!"

Pansy watched, horror stricken, as Neville crashed from his chair, his body convulsing in what Pansy could only assume was bouts of excruciating pain. He fell, in what felt like slow motion, to the floor. And, as chance would have it, due to the fact he'd been sitting diagonally backwards from her, he fell so close to her she could have touched his head with her shoe. Pansy reached for her own wand, unable to clear her mind enough to realise the magnitude of her action as his eyes found hers once more, riddled with such an obvious pain that almost choked Pansy's very core. A hand, two hands, perhaps more, were suddenly upon Pansy's wand arm, preventing her from bring her wand up.

"Pans, you can't." She heard Draco hiss in her ear.

 _What? How did he get there?_

"Nonverbal if you have to. Don't let her know it's you." Draco's voice was barely a whisper, but was smooth and controlled in her ear.

Suddenly, Pansy realised the classroom was abuzz; Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil were both screaming. Finnegan had been thrown to the back wall with, what appeared to be, an incredibly strong disarming charm, much stronger than Pansy had witnessed previously, when he'd stood to defend Neville The Slytherins were sitting absolutely still with the exception of _Draco,_ who was at Pansy's side, still clutching her wand arm _._ Pansy, had her eyes still locked with Neville's, though he was finding it harder to keep her gaze as his eyes were forced shut on a more frequent basis due to the bouts of Alecto's curse radiating through him,

 _Nonverbal if you have to._ Draco's words repeated themselves back at her and, nodding slowly, focussing as hard as she could and as clear as she was able, breaking her long-lasting gaze from Neville's just long enough to glare at Alecto and think ' _STUPEFY!'_

At once it seemed many things happened, but the fact that Neville stopped convulsing was all Pansy found herself able to register.

Alecto herself was knocked backwards and was momentarily unconscious, though with nowhere near the ferocity that Finnegan had been thrown. Finnegan himself was just now slowly getting to his feet.

The female Carrow stood up from the floor, a pointed glare on her face as she looked at each student in turn. "I'm going to find out who did that," her face once more twisting into the smile she'd worn before cursing Neville. Pansy, all alarm forgotten, and, whilst risking a few chance glances at Neville, who had settled back in his seat and seemed to be writing something, very quickly, flicked her wand slightly and thought, as clearly as she was able, _Scourgify._ The spell cleaned the underside of her desk and when Alecto forced every wand in the room to reveal its last given spell, a howl of annoyance erupted from her pasty face as none of the wands showed a _Stupefy._

"Class dismissed!" Alecto said through gritted teeth. Pansy allowed herself another quick glance at Neville, who she realised with a stifled gasp was already watching her. His blue, yet somehow warm eyes seemed to be speaking a thousand words just to her. As she looked, she watched him bend down, fiddle with his shoelace, and then, so quickly she could easily have missed it, Neville place his hand in the front pocket of her bag.

 _Um, excuse me?_

He then stood, turned as quickly as he could, and followed Finnegan out the door without a backwards glance.

"Come on, Pans!" Pansy heard a strained Daphne say from behind her, and she obliged, as they then strode the length of the room and exited their first, cut very short, Muggle Studies class.

"Well, fuck me! That was eventful!" But Pansy's barely heard Theo's words. "Let's go see this pair's cosy new setup." even when his arm draped over her shoulder, her thoughts were entirely somewhere else.

"Sure, it's fuck ugly though, isn't it Pans?" Draco answered, and Pansy gave a non-committal 'MmHmm _'_ in response. Still not paying the rest of the group much attention, Pansy was drawn to her bag, specifically the front pocket. Her fingers closed around a small scrap of parchment, which, after making sure the others were all busy in conversation, Pansy brought the parchment close to her face.

Two words were scribbled, hurriedly, upon the scrap.

 _Thank you._


	12. Flecks of Gold

.

Part One | Strike the Match

Twelve. _Flecks of Gold_

* * *

"And you're positive you'd both rather stay _here_?" Theo was wondering incredulously. "I mean, as fucking beautiful as it is, you're more than welcome to come back to Slytherin. Unless, of course, you prefer _this_..." He gestured vaguely at the powder blue walls.

"Not a chance mate. I've got a permanent headache just being here, but McGonagall said something about all the prefect information being here, and instead of coming up with a schedule for patrols-"

"Patrols which should have _started_ yesterday!" Pansy interjected with a pang of guilt

"-we decided to get slaughtered on our first night back. Then the Twat Twins put us both on a right fucking downer last night. So now…" Draco trailed off with a small shrug and an irritated sigh.

"Not a problem, old bean!" Theo answered in pompous over exaggeration and playfully smacked Draco's left shoulder. "But you simply must come visit in the morn'!"

"You're an idiot!" Pansy laughed as she swatted Theo's hand which he was currently attempting to grab one of her own with. "And you! My favourite raven-haired Ice-Queen! You must also come back to our underground lair of the serpents!"

"Goodbye, Theodore!" Draco exclaimed loudly and all but forcibly pushed Theo through the exiting door. He was followed, swiftly, by Millicent, who allowed the rather intoxicated Theo to drape one arm over her shoulders, steadying him, as they began to walk down the corridor.

"I bid thee farewell!" They heard Theo cry from the corridor beyond. Laughing and shaking their heads, Pansy and Draco also bid Blaise and Daphne goodbye, the latter pulling Pansy into a bone-crushing hug whilst her voice cracked as she said, "This was fun. I miss you. Please do come tomorrow night," Daphne released her best friend and continued, "- _both_ of you." She quickly hugged Draco and Blaise wrapped his arms quickly around Pansy before grasping Draco's right hand in his own briefly, and the two quickly stepped through the door and disappeared to the right. Their footsteps rang for a short minute before their three friends turned to descend the staircase Pansy knew they must have reached. The pair turned to face each other, and Draco shut the door behind him before they made their way back to the seating area.

"Well, we've had a productive start to the year," he began as he slouched back into his favoured armchair once more. "Third day's over and we've had all of five classes, skived two, and had one cut short because the teacher is a demented sociopath who Crucio'd a student. Fuck me. Well, at least, we're clearly the most model Head Boy and Girl Hogwarts has ever had."

"We probably should have gone to Arithmancy," Pansy mused.

Draco shrugged, shaking his head again in amusement. "It was worth it. I haven't laughed that much since we came back. In fact, it was worth it just to see Theo's _Sexy Alecto_ impression!"

"Oh my Merlin, yes!"

Draco sighed and rubbed his eyes. He observed his silver wristwatch. "It's nearly eight, bloody hell! We'll have to start the patrol schedule. I definitely need some food as well though. WINKY!"

Two Days Later...

 _Try not to be a dick this time, Pansy._

It was their first Herbology lesson since they'd been assigned their pairs, and even though she'd _seen_ him in both Divination and Charms at various points over the past few days, both classes had consisted of Pansy awkwardly attempting to look anywhere but Neville.

Divination had by far been the worst of the two in terms of embarrassment. Daphne, taking full advantage of the fact that this was the first time she'd spent any alone time with Pansy since the disastrous Muggle Studies class spent the entire lesson prying Pansy for information on her newfound attraction towards Neville. Instead of listening to Professor Trelawny, Daphne was intent on bombarding Pansy in a barrage of annoyingly hissed questions. Trelawny's usual dramatic demeanour was seemingly gone and replaced by a rather monotonic drone, as the Seer spoke of signs of light in the darkest of spaces.

 _Why did I say that shit about his jawline?_ Pansy groaned as she attempted to ignore Daphne.

In truth, she'd never expected Daphne to work out that she wasn't joking when she uttered her want to run her tongue over Neville's jaw. Until, of course, she'd completely blown that cover by failing miserably, to not only stop staring at him but finding herself unable to not act when she witnessed him being so cruelly cursed by Alecto.

 _"_ _Have you kissed him?" Daphne whispered across the small round table the pair had occupied._

 _"_ _Have I...are you mad? Of course I've not bloody kissed him!"_

 _"_ _But you want to?"_

 _"_ _Shut up!"_

 _"_ _Oh, you do want to! Oh, it's so romantic!"_

 _Pansy didn't reply; she had no response. Yet, she'd internally queried Daphne's words countless times since. Romantic? It certainly didn't feel romantic._

 _"_ _No," she explained, "if anything were to happen, which it won't, if we were caught, he could be killed. I could be killed for being with a traitor. Actually killed. They'd kill people for less. It's too hard, Daph. There's too much at stake," Pansy had finished miserably. She knew her words were true. The relatively safe world she'd grown up in was gone; now all that mattered was staying alive - Draco had been saying as much since last year._

 _"_ _Also," Pansy muttered, begrudgingly, "I've spent the entire time I've known him berating and making fun of him. The chance of him even looking at me like that are slim to none. In fact, deep down, he probably hates me."_

 _"_ _I wouldn't be so sure about that," Daphne had hissed in response._

 _Pansy frowned. "Why?"_

 _"_ _Well, he's looking at you right now...and he doesn't look like he hates you."_

The Herbology lesson, a double, hadn't been the catastrophic mess that Pansy had felt, with an absolute surety, it would be. Neville had a much more casual and calm demeanor than he'd had with her thus far, and Pansy did her best to hide her usual dryness, desperate not to appear so rude again. Neither spoke of the Muggle Studies class, and Neville didn't mention the thank you note he'd put in her bag and Pansy didn't either. She couldn't help feel though that the slightly more relaxed air between them was a direct result of him knowing somehow she'd received his message.

"So, remember how I said I thought our plant was in my book?" Neville asked, running his left hand through his short, dark hair. His brow furrowed as he continued, "Well, uhh, I was wrong. It wasn't even _close_ to our plant, so...I guess we will definitely be working from scratch." Pansy laughed, out loud, before clasping her hand to her mouth, horrified, as though she'd spoken an incredibly offensive term. _Keep up the fucking pretence. Don't be a twat to him, but no niceties._

Pansy herself frowned, blurting out a rushed, "Fine by me," as she busied herself examining the nails on her left hand.

 _It really has to stop,_ Pansy told herself, swallowing, as she tried to ignore the way the slight enthusiasm appeared in his voice when he spoke about deciphering the puzzle that was their plant. Not for what people might say, not for the annoyance of Daphne's probing, not wholly for her. But for _him_. The realisation of just how much selflessness Pansy apparently was capable of possessing had come as something of a surprise to her. It was jarring, somehow, to know she was wholly thinking of an other.

But yet...it made perfect sense. The _only_ sense.

Pansy's father, at least, was in far too deep in the enormity that was the current war. And Pansy knew that meant _she_ was in too deep also. She was on one side, despite how much she hated the fact. She would attempt to hinder it as much as she could without risking herself too much but she knew she was no hero, and she simply wasn't prepared to blindly sacrifice herself like some reckless Gryffindor might. This secondary realisation halted her slightly less than the first. _Not quite that selfless, then._ Neville, the tall boy she currently stood next to - that a small, yet annoyingly loud part of her wished against all else that she could, what? Touch? Kiss? More?- would do _whatever_ he could, she knew for definite, to defy the Carrows and the Dark Lord's plans. His blood didn't wholly run red, it was tinged with flecks of gold, somehow the small cowardly lump he'd once appeared as was as much a lion as any she'd seen. He'd do anything...and she simply wasn't prepared to.

The thought, as much as she tried to swat it away, only made her want him more.

 _Why can't you go back to looking like a bag of sand? That'd make this much easier._

"Library?" Neville enquired. His eyebrows had shot up questioningly at her last response, though he'd said nothing and Pansy noted that he seemed slightly put out and her stomach dropped. Being a bitch when she _wanted_ to be a bitch was one thing, and it was one thing Pansy had always been effortlessly gifted at, but it was a whole different matter when she _didn't_ wish to be but felt she had no other choice. _That_ was, she was discovering, gut-wrenching.

"Yeah," she replied, her voice sad and her heart heavy. They walked in silence exiting the greenhouse, Neville holding the potted plant in his hands as they began the climb of the grounds towards the castle.

"You know, you've surprised me this week," Neville said, rather bluntly, as though he'd rushed and dared himself to speak his mind. _Oh shit, Longbottom. Don't get deep with me!_

A simple "Oh?" was all she could muster. Her palms were beginning to sweat as she mentally repeated the word _pretence_ over and over in her mind.

"I've had the distinct impression - for the first time ever, mind - that you don't entirely hate me."

Blinking, Pansy found her stride stop abruptly and felt her breath had done the same. She was going to have to lie. Somehow, she'd been more drawn to Neville in the last week than she had any male her entire life. She still didn't remotely understand it; the way his eyes made her instantly weak, and his jaw, _Godric, his jaw!_ made her stomach try to pull itself inside out. Tears pooled in her eyes.

 _Oh my fucking hell, Pansy, whatever you do, you CANNOT cry in front of him._

Swallowing hard, her tears seemed to take heed to her panicked thoughts, at least, while she continuously blinked. Opening her mouth, she readied herself to tell him what she _had_ to tell him; that he was still just the same old _Fat Arse Longbottom…_

"That's because...I...don't…" Pansy trailed off weakly, instantly scolding herself internally despite the fact she knew from the minute he'd queried his thoughts aloud that she would never have lied to him, would never have insulted him to help cover her own skin. _But it's not just my skin, it's his too._

Neville nodded, his expression understanding, yet his eyes were worried. "Why?"

"I don't know," Pansy admitted, honestly. _Flying fuck! What am I doing?_

Neville nodded some more. "I don't know, either." His words made Pansy's breath catch even deeper in her throat. _He doesn't, what?_ They began walking again, their strides slow yet steady. Pansy desperately wanted to question him, to dissect every single part of the four words he'd just spoken. _He doesn't what?!_ They trekked in silence, and somehow now Pansy felt both comfortable yet also tense in his presence. _He doesn't what?!_

"Pansy?" Neville ventured as they reached the vicinity of the main doors.

"Yes?" she turned to face him once more, though she may not have, had she known before she looked at him that his eyes would become even more startlingly open to her, as though they were saying a hundred things he wouldn't allow his mouth to.

"It's...everything will...it's okay. Or, it will be."

His words cracked something deep inside of her, forcing her own reply to come out barely more than a croaked, emotional whisper. "I wish I could believe you." And as she pushed past him, wishing more than anything that the arm she grazed past could somehow wrap itself around her, she hurried in front of him, until only one thought stayed in her mind: h _e cannot see you cry._


	13. Believed the Lie

.

Part One | Strike the Match

Thirteen. _Believed the Lie_

* * *

 _Right, Pansy, you need to get your shit together._

After all but actually running away from Neville, the highly embarrassing incident from a few days ago still made her cheeks flush when her thoughts momentarily drifted there. Ever since, she had received a number of notes, none signed, but all written in the same messy script. Currently, they were all currently laid out, in the order in which she'd received them _,_ atop the dressing table she was sitting in front of.

 _He's a fan of notes,_ Pansy mused, a small smile escaping her lips as she studied the scraps of parchment for what felt like the fiftieth time.

 _Don't worry. We can go to the library another time._

 _Didn't see you at dinner, hope everything is OK._

 _Think I know what book our plant may be in, let me know when you can get together. Hope you're ok._

 _Can we study together this weekend?_

Pansy sighed, her eyes closing as she let her face fall into her awaiting arms, which were awaiting, crossed, on the table's top. Before this year if anyone had sent her notes like this, in such quick succession with barely any knowledge of her, she'd have called them a needy shit and got on with her life. But the way she and Neville seemed to somehow have some sort of pull that Pansy completely and utterly failed to explain even to herself, she just didn't have it in her to feel anything negative about him.

Attempting, yet again, to assess the situation, Pansy scrunched her nose up. She was incredibly and undeniably attracted to him, she knew that, even if it had taken until that first Herbology lesson for her to admit this fact to herself, _Pansy Parkinson hopelessly fancied Neville Longbottom_ was an unbelievable fact she knew to be entirely true. Swallowing hard, Pansy mentally weighed up every other part to this strange aspect of her life, an aspect that she certainly hadn't expected when she boarded the Hogwarts Express only one week ago. Daphne was incredibly approving, and was still completely relentless in her quest for knowledge of any new developments between Pansy and Neville. A snort radiated from Pansy at that moment as the realisation of just how minor the developments in question had been until this point.

 _It's pathetic really._

Then there was Neville himself.

Pansy glanced back at the four notes laid neatly on the surface in front of her. He was kind. _Really, really kind._ He had to be, this just proved that. He'd noticed she hadn't been at dinner, that meant he'd _looked_ for her at dinner. The recognition of this fact was enough to cover her arms in a layer of goosebumps and she hugged herself as she pictured his warm, blue eyes scan the Slytherin table for her. Had his brow furrowed when he noted her absence? Did he keep a close eye on the doors to watch for her entrance, which never came? Pansy hoped so, and hated herself for it, because she was still adamantly, almost stubbornly sure that she'd never let anything happen between them. _Too risky, too much at stake,_ she thought again, and again. Until she _almost_ believed the lie herself.

A voice broke Pansy's train of thought, a voice so familiar to her she had to shake herself present enough to realise she hadn't imagined it.

"Pans," Draco repeated.

Pansy turned her head to the right, to face her bedroom door as the torso of Draco Malfoy poked its way into the room. "Yeah?" She asked, hoping he wouldn't notice her hastily gathering up the notes, placing them in a nearby drawer.

"You have a visitor."

"Is it Daph?" Pansy inquired, puzzled as she remembered Daphne talking about some 'batshit crazy runes essay _'_ she'd wanted to finish that evening.

"Nope," Draco answered, elongating the _o_ and peaking Pansy's curiosity.

She narrowed her eyes at the wizard as she stood from her dressing table stool and began to cross the bedroom. "I swear to Merlin, Draco, if this _visitor_ is just Winky with the towels I asked for I'm going to hex you."

"Oh, it's _definitely_ not Winky…" Draco trailed off, before crossing the small landing and entering his own bedroom.

"Where are you-"

Draco cut her off sharply, "There's no doubt in my mind you're going to send me packing anyway. I'm just speeding up the process."

"Alright then," Pansy snapped, annoyed at his dismissiveness.

 _I hardly ever send you packing - fucking drama queen._

She began to descend the staircase, her curiosity heightening as she approached the bottom step and she pushed the door that led to the living room ajar, before stepping through. She scanned the living room, quickly noticing its sole occupant. A tall, definitely not Daphne-shaped figure was seemingly examining the ugly cupcake picture. A dark blue t-shirt covered his upper body, and his wand was stashed haphazardly in the back pocket of a pair of too-old jeans.

Pansy gulped, he hadn't yet noticed her presence and she spent a few long seconds just watching him. He gave his nose a quick scratch - Pansy probably shouldn't have known that he did that a lot, before shoving his hands in his front pockets and turning and glancing around powder blue room. His expression was unreadable and blank, or it was until he noticed Pansy, standing in the doorway. She mentally noted how his eyes softened considerably as the pair stood, neither moving nor averting their eyes from the other.

Pansy swallowed before she was the one to finally break the twinned gaze. She trailed her eyes over the parts of herself she was able to see with a sudden gulp of what, _exactly,_ she must look like. Her outfit was less than optimal for a meeting with the one person you were incredibly attracted to. A pair of large, cosy, knitted socks donned her feet; they were a mauve purple and could be pulled up to the bottoms of her thighs when straightened. At present they were bunched, untidily, around her ankles. Her legs were bare save for a pair of striped, grey and white pyjama shorts, and a large Slytherin Quidditch jersey hung unflatteringly over her torso. The jersey had belonged to Draco for about a week before Pansy had claimed it for herself several years ago, it was large and comfy and one of her favourite garments. Her dark hair was pulled back messily in a hurried bun and her makeup had long been removed.

 _I look like a fucking bag lady._

Luckily, her visitor didn't seem to mind as she noticed his eyes drift over her entirety in what was momentarily a very un-Neville-like manner. His gaze paused in the briefest of moments on her legs, which at least, Pansy thanked the Gods, were free of hair.

Swallowing, Pansy looked back up her green gaze meeting his blue eyes once again. The corners of his eyes, she noticed, tugged slightly when he shot her a small smile.

 _Breathe!_

"Hi, Pansy."

Somehow, she managed to not squeak. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Longbottom?"

Neville took a small step forward. He was looking at her so intently Pansy felt as though he was questioning her a thousand times over, lines were grooved over his forehead, like a collection of parallel rivers and somehow Pansy was sure they were full of all the questions she knew he wanted to ask her. His stance was rigid and his mouth was a mere thin line, surrounded by his strong jaw. It was, however, his eyes that Pansy chose to focus her attention to. And even now, even with the concern that was exploding from the rest of his features, his eyes remained calm and kind and gentle. Even from across the room they calmed her and somehow made her feel, _almost_ believe,that everything would be alright, that everything _was_ alright.

 _I don't know how he does that._

"I needed-" Neville began, and all of a sudden the collected demeanour that he'd displayed just a second before crumbled. Pansy recognised his metaphorical mask - something she supposed they did have in common, had melted away and she continued to watch quietly as he swallowed before he finished, somewhat meekly, "-to know you were okay."

Pansy blinked, her eyes never left his face and she wasn't entirely sure she trusted her emotions to stay in check, yet she knew she couldn't afford a repeat of last time. _NO! No, I'm not okay...NOTHING is okay and I don't know what to do!_ She screamed, internally, wishing more than anything at that moment to be able to tell him every worry, every trouble, and every doubt that was plastered, permanently into her mind. Knowing she couldn't, Pansy settled on the only word she trusted herself to say outwardly. "Why?"

"I-I don't know."

Pansy nodded, slowly. The answer, same as the one she'd given him only days before _,_ confusing as it was, somehow made more sense than almost everything else currently going on this year.

"Do you want to sit?" Pansy asked, gesturing towards the couch as she did. "I can get Winky to get some food if you…" trailing off, Pansy looked around awkwardly. She realised that outside of a classroom setting, and to be honest, even _in_ a classroom setting, she had very little to talk to Longbottom about, she doubted greatly that they had even one thing in common.

"Winky?" Neville queried.

Pansy noticed the slightest hints of a smile tugging at his mouth. "Head Boy and Girl get a House Elf," Pansy answered with a slight shrug as she moved towards the couch.

Neville followed suit. They sat down almost simultaneously, granting them a far closer proximity than they'd shared thus far.

"I didn't know that," Neville mused aloud. "I never had a House Elf at home."

"Neither did I, on both accounts," Pansy said, beginning to relax as she told him the story of how she and Winky had first become acquainted. "-so I'm in the bathroom, through there," she pointed through the door that led to the rest of the quarters, "-and then I hear Draco roar his fucking head off, so I run through and he's holding Winky by her ears! Her ears are massive, by the way. And she's just dangling there looking at him, and it's sort of hilarious and sort of really, really _not_ , and then-" Pansy stopped. She looked at Neville, a genuine, wide smile on her face as she watched Neville laugh so hard he actually rocked back and forward in his seat. Pansy could do nothing to stop her joining him.

"Ahem," a small, yet perfectly audible, squeak interrupted their hysterics. Pansy looked up, wiping a small tear from her left eye and forced her mouth closed, pursing her lips as she tried to stop herself from succumbing to even more laughter. To her left she felt Neville outwardly shake, she assumed he was in a similar predicament.

"Hello, Winky," Pansy managed to somehow say through gritted teeth.

Winky, rather spectacularly, considering she had no eyebrows to raise, raised her eyebrows. "Winky heard her name, Miss," the elf replied. Pansy noticed she was clearly rather grumpy about the witch's choice of anecdote. _Oh, damn. I bet she heard all of that._

"Right, yeah. Winky could we get some food please?"

"Of course, would Miss like Winky to surprise Miss, and...ohhhhh-" The elf paused, her large eyes now resting on Neville. She continued, much more enthusiastically, "Winky hasn't met _this_ young Master before, has Miss got herself a mate? Oh, this is most exciting for Winky!"

"No! Oh, my Gods, Winky shut up!" Pansy squealed, as Neville erupted into a new round of hysterics. Winky turned on her small heel, and Pansy, now rather furious with the elf, swore she heard the words, _"_ Teach Miss to discuss Winky's mishap with Master with any old boy Miss brings to the rooms that Winky cares to, so it does."

Pansy felt her face frown as she glared at the spot Winky had just occupied. _Fucking elf._

"I like Winky," Neville stated happily.

"I, currently, do not," Pansy exclaimed, willing herself not to giggle any more as Neville barked a singular, carefree laugh himself.

Tentatively, she began to speak again, careful not to use Winky's name aloud this time, "So, I hadn't had much experience of House Elves before, only Tula, who is Daphne's family Elf. And honestly," Pansy dropped her voice to a whisper, "I had no idea House Elves had such attitudes!"

"We never had an elf," Neville repeated. "I thought you would have, being a Parkinson and everything." The sentence could have so easily been laced with a sneer, an insult, and had it come from the mouths of a number of students, it would have. But if Neville meant any hint of snide at Pansy's last name, he hid it well.

Pansy shook her head, trying to hide the sadness she knew must now be in her eyes, thoughts of her childhood filling her mind like quicksand. Ever since she met Tula, the same day she'd met Daphne, Pansy had wished and wished her mother would get a House Elf. Lilith instead opted to pay cleaning witches to serve the Parkinson homestead, cleaning witches which were always informed _not to bother with the child._

"You alright?" She heard Neville ask. Pansy shook herself physically and mentally, forcing herself to focus on the now.

"Yeah, I just, didn't really like my childhood."

 _Why am I telling him this?_

Neville looked up, staring at the wall that faced them. "Me neither."

 _Well, at least we do have one thing in common,_ Pansy thought with a sad twinge in her heart as she mimicked the way he stared at the wall. Pansy swallowed and the two settled into a comfortable silence, lost in their own thoughts until they were involuntarily pulled back into the present by a familiar squeak.

"Winky has brought Miss and her new mate lots of lovely foods!"

They quickly finished most of the food Winky had acquired, which Pansy had developed a spluttering coughing fit the moment she'd seen the contents of the tray the elf was carrying. A plate of oysters-

 _Fucking oysters, are you off your head Winky?_

 _-_ was situated next to a larger plate, this one containing nothing but a stack of ribs-

 _I don't even know what you're thinking is on that one_

-and a third small platter held some halved strawberries and a small bowl of what looked like melted chocolate.

 _You are something else, Elf._

Neville sunk back into the couch as Pansy curled her feet beneath her legs, turning her torso to the left to face the Gryffindor. Her left elbow was propped against the back of the couch fabric, a strand of hair that had fallen from her bun twirling between her left thumb and index finger.

"I don't think I've ever seen you like this," he said, after clearing his throat.

"In my pyjamas, with rib sauce all over me? No, I don't suppose you have."

"Ha! Well, yes, _that,_ but I meant... you know, relaxed."

"To be honest, a relaxed me isn't a very common sight at the moment, feel privileged, Longbottom."

"I do," Neville answered, quietly.

 _Me too._

The comfortable silence they'd sat in earlier returned, until the door leading to the corridor containing the kitchen and bathroom opened, and the sound of Draco clearing his throat broke the quiet.

"Don't suppose you mind me sitting in my own living room, do you Pans?"

"I never once minded, you pillock," Pansy snapped tartly, which earned her a snort from both Draco and Neville simultaneously.

"Alright, Longbottom?" Draco added, sounding surprised himself when he spoke the words. "Suppose I'd better get used to you hanging around, should I?" He flopped into his chair, taking turns glaring back and forth at Neville and Pansy.

"Um, what? No, no not really. Shut up, Draco."

 _Smooth, Pansy._

"Oh," Draco began and executed an exaggerated eye roll. "Still in denial then, well that's fun. Where's my whisky?" He added, his grey eyes beginning to search the perimeter of the living room.

"Draco, I am _not_ in-"

"-there it is. _Accio_ liquid-of-perfection!" Draco snorted again, this time at himself as the bottle flew into his outstretched hand, completely ignoring Pansy and the fact he'd cut her off. The blonde sighed. "I cannot believe I'm even contemplating this but, Longbottom, whisky?"

"Sure," Neville answered, his voice laced with a touch of uncertainty. "Thanks...Malfoy."

Draco grunted in response before summoning Winky back into the room. "Winky we need three glasses tonight."

"Oh yes, of course, Master. Winky is most pleased to fetch them for you. And I must say, Winky is most pleased that Master has put all his jealousy aside, in favour of being a good host to Miss Pansy's new mate."

"Fucking excuse me!? Jealous? I've never been jealous in my life. Winky you come and take that back right now. Winky! WINKY!" Draco had sprung from his seat in annoyance and was looking around haughtily.

"I think she's gone Draco," Pansy tried not to laugh, getting an overwhelming sense of deja vu as she felt Neville do the same beside her.

"Well," Draco slumped back down, clearly still unhappy. "I am _not_ jealous, just so you know. And if I was going to be jealous of someone, it _certainly_ is not going to be of _him,_ " he spat, opting to swig his first drink of firewhisky straight from the bottle. "Fucking elf," he muttered just in time for Winky to prance back into the room, a small circular tray bobbing over her head as she did. Pansy was certain she heard the elf omit a small chuckle to herself.

Neville left an hour or so later after he and Pansy had agreed to start working on their Herbology project together the following weekend. The three had, somehow, managed to have multiple laughs, tell a multitude of stories, and generally have a good time.

"Well," Draco began, his words slurring together into one. "if you had told me last week that I'd be having a whisky with fucking Longbottom, I'd have stuck my wand up your arse. But he's actually _not_ the worst person in the world. Funny what spending the summer living with a psychotic mass murdering tyrant will do to your perception."

Pansy snorted, she didn't know what to feel, the alcohol coursing through her system was certainly not helping her process any thoughts or emotions.

"You really like Longbottom?" Draco asked, watching her through heavy, almost entirely closed eyes. Pansy stared back at him, one of her oldest friends, her first _everything,_ someone she trusted with her life, and the person she'd never managed to successfully lie to, and nodded, slowly, in the same rhythm as Draco's fresh snores.


	14. Something to Fight For

.

Part One | Strike the Match

Fourteen. _Something to Fight For_

* * *

If anyone had informed Pansy Parkinson, prior to the beginning of this week, that she'd be stressing about what to do with her hair, to go study with Neville Longbottom of all people, she would have thought them delirious. Yet, that was exactly the predicament Pansy found herself facing that particular weekend. She had gotten as far as glamouring her slightly faded, and therefore even more hideous _,_ green locks black again. "Oh for fuck's sake!" she cried out, not for the first time that morning, when her third attempted hairstyle fell flat back against her head.

 _I'm just fucking destined for boring, straight, lifeless hair forever_

"What's wrong with you?" a croaky drawl asked from behind her door.

"My. Fucking. Hair. Is. A. Piece. Of. Shit," Pansy snapped over her shoulder as Draco's own untidy mop appeared around the door, sipping a mug of tea.

"It looks the same as it always does."

"Yes, Draco," Pansy replied in an impatient hiss, "that's the problem."

"Right, do you want a cup of tea? Winky just made-"

"No, Draco I do _not_ want tea. Unless it's magic fucking tea that can make my hair do anything other than _this_." At the last word Pansy grabbed handfuls of her black locks at either side, holding them in place for a few seconds before letting them drop, ungracefully, back to their original position.

"Honestly Pans," Draco began, through sporadic sips of his tea, "I doubt Longbottom will care too much." He smirked and cockily raised his eyebrows.

"That is _not_ -"

"Don't even try, Parkinson."

Pansy narrowed her eyes but conceded to his order. _Fucking know-it-all._

"I'm serious Pans, you can see it a fucking mile off. For some batshit crazy reason he thinks the fucking sun shines out of your unmentionables"

" _Unmentionables?"_ Pansy queried with a smirk, Draco was never one to mince his words, especially when it came to Pansy's… _unmentionables._

"Would you prefer I said cunt?"

"Fair point," Pansy answered with an amused outtake of breath. "Draco?"

"Hmm?" Draco finished his tea, placing the cup on Pansy's bedside table and sitting on her bed.

Pansy swallowed, choosing her words carefully. Draco may annoy and tease her, but his opinion mattered greatly to Pansy. He was a logical being, rarely driven by emotion over action, and as he always had been, remained her greatest ally. "Do you think it's wrong? The idea of me and Longbottom?"

"Yes," Draco answered bluntly. "But not for the reason you do, it's fucking mental. I'd have got fantastic odds had I ever chose to bet on your next suitor, but the world has gone to shit Pans, grab some fucking happiness while you still can." His words stunned her into silence. Not only because they were so _un-Draco,_ but they somehow actually made sense. "Just don't get stupid," Draco continued. "Don't give anyone _any_ reason to suspect you have anything other than having a loyalty to the Dark Lord." Nodding, Pansy looked downwards, unseeing. Could she really have happiness? The concept seemed almost abstract now. She was still contemplating the risks when, at her silence, Draco spoke once more, "It's no use just having something to fight _against,_ you need something to fight _for_."

"When did you get so wise, Draco Malfoy?"

"I had a lot of time to think this summer," he replied, as his eyes met Pansy's and she nodded again.

"Thanks, Draco."

"Plus," Draco's signature smirk was planted firmly back on his pale face. "at least one of us should get laid."

Pansy picked up her hairbrush from the dressing table she was sitting in front of, launched it across the room, narrowly missing Draco's head.

"Hey now!"

They laughed together briefly before Pansy paused, considering him. "What are you fighting for?" she asked, curiosity getting the better of her. Draco paused also, she didn't miss his face wincing slightly at her words.

"My mother," Draco answered quietly before Pansy stood from her stool, crossed the bedroom and plopped herself down next to the wizard. The pair simultaneously threw their arms around each other.

Draco stroked the back of Pansy's head, his other arm pressing them together as she heard him whisper softly in her ear, "Go be happy."

The library was fairly deserted when Pansy entered. Straightened her shoulders, she began to make her way through bookcase after bookcase, until she reached the Herbology section. She stopped when she saw him, sitting alone at a wooden bench and scrutinising the contents page of a large textbook. His hand propped up his head, by the looks of him he'd roughly pushed it through his short, dark hair and his brow was furrowed whilst his other hand was roaming over the page of the textbook.

Pansy cleared her throat, amused to see that the noise made Neville flinch in surprise.

"Hi," she said, moving towards the opposite bench from the one Neville was currently occupying.

"Hey! You scared me," He smiled warmly as he spoke, his eyes resting on her face longer than necessary as she took her seat.

"Found our plant, yet?"

"Nope. I'm starting to think it just doesn't exist," Neville responded, as Pansy emitted a small laugh. He looked back down at the text. "Oh, wait, here's something about oddly coloured leaves, hang on." He found the corner of the correct page and pulled the rest of the pages forward, revealing several pictures of large, spotted, but still primarily green, leaves. "Well," Neville began, his expression almost one of amusement, "these are definitely not blue."

" _Definitely_ not blue," Pansy repeated Neville's words to him.

An hour later, Pansy and Neville vacated the library, having exhausted all the books that looked as though they may be helpful. Neville had presented the idea to go and examine their plant once more in person, and Pansy was grateful to have the opportunity to leave the stuffy library if nothing else, _but_ _certainly not because I want to walk next to him._

It was common knowledge that the seventh years had been paired up randomly in several subjects and no one paid the two much attention; their assigned work was the perfect opportunity to walk together in a normal fashion, if such a thing existed.

Their conversation had varied greatly. It was solely related to their mystery plant for the first ten minutes after Pansy's arrival, until Neville had decided to ask how Draco's head was feeling that morning. Pansy raised her eyebrows, momentarily forgetting that only she was accustomed to Draco's excessive drinking habits. The volume of whisky the Head Boy was beginning to consume on a nightly basis, Pansy remembered at Neville's words, was far from normal and would have granted most people a vicious hangover the morning after, if not a trip to the hospital wing.

"He's growing used to it," she answered honestly.

Neville had said nothing, but she saw his brow scrunch up slightly at her answer. "I can't even believe I'm asking this," Neville began, "but, is he, you know, _alright?_ Drinking that much on a regular basis is probably not a great sign. It's none of my business, of course, feel free to tell me to shut up."

"No it...it's okay," Pansy replied, not entirely sure what to say. Was it a betrayal of her to speak of Draco's private actions behind his back? "No, I don't really think he is alright, to be honest," she answered, sadly. It was no secret, to her alone anyway, that last year, closely followed by the summer, had had a definite effect on Draco.

Neville nodded but did not pry further about Draco. He looked into Pansy's face and she looked down at the table, examining the Gryffindor's clasped hands, saying nothing. "So, uh, are you enjoying Seventh Year?" Neville asked, finally breaking the silence that had ensued post-Draco discussion.

Pansy snorted, rounding her head to face him once more. "Are you?"

"Oh, well I'm being Crucio'd on the regular and taught that the majority of my friends are scum, and then I got pissed with Draco Malfoy so, I'm fairly certain this year is actually taking place in an alternate universe."

Pansy let out a bark of laughter at his words. "I think you might be right."

Their conversation had relaxed somewhat and a comfortable flow weaved into their words, which primarily involved discussing the absurd new Hogwarts _._

Frowning as they approached the Greenhouses, Pansy ventured,"I'm fairly certain Sprout doesn't just allow students to wander into the Greenhouses on weekends."

"She wouldn't let _you,_ no," Neville spoke the words with a grin.

 _Charming._ Pansy raised her eyebrows, humouring him as she allowed him to lead the way across the grounds. It was a chilly day, but the sky was almost entirely clear of clouds. Pansy squinted in the low-lying sun and breathed deeply as she walked. She noticed Neville take several sideways glances in her direction, his mouth still twisted into a mischievous-looking smile.

"What?" she demanded.

His simple response entirely unhelpful in answering her question. "Just... you."

"What about me?" Pansy queried, her tone harsher than she meant.

"You're still so full of surprises, and I like that you like autumn days," Neville answered to a stunned Pansy.

 _How the fuck do you know that?_ "What makes you think I like autumn days?"

"Because the second you stepped outside you looked towards those," he pointed off to their right, where a small huddle of bare trees were standing. "And you had the faintest smile when you saw them. You had the same faint smile when you zipped your coat up, and then again when you took a deep breath. I mean, it is just a hunch, but I'd say you like autumn days."

 _Woah, nicely played Longbottom._

"I do," Pansy answered, fairly stunned at his response. "With the exception of those fucking things." Pansy pointed towards the sky over the forest, where a dementor could be seen looming. Pansy shuddered, grateful for the chance to be outside but suddenly hopeful it wouldn't be too long a jaunt.

"They're awful, aren't they?" Neville said in response, following Pansy's gaze to the creature.

Pansy wished she'd never mentioned the dementor, and chose to steer the conversation back to the place it had been after Neville had made his autumn day observation. "You're a bit of a creep Longbottom, do you know that?" she added, with another small smile.

"I'm not usually," Neville confessed. "Do you mind?"

Pansy paused her stride, watching him as Neville followed suit, stopping also. A breeze blew through the grounds, momentarily whipping Pansy's hair wildly around her head, her breath somewhere around her throat as she swallowed, not allowing her eyes to leave his as she answered, "I think, somehow, you know I don't."

She noticed him smiling again as they continued their slow walk towards the greenhouse door.

Pansy and Neville had spent a good twenty minutes in Greenhouse Three; Pansy having been most impressed that Neville possessed a set of keys.

"How the bloody hell?" She had gasped, her first thought being that she should write Neville up a detention for stealing, before remembering _who_ was holding the keys, and found it very hard to believe that Neville had actually become a thief.

He merely shrugged. "Professor Sprout knows I want to take Herbology further after Hogwarts, she said if I ever wish to do some extra studying in here, I could."

"Huh," Pansy replied, her eyebrows raised first in disbelief and then admiration. _He's really...trusted._

The potted plants for the seventh year assignment were located in a tray, on a high shelf, within a large cupboard at the far end of the glass room. Neville opted not to levitate the tray magically but lifted it down himself. Which caused the bottom of his grey hooded jumper to lift up for the briefest of moments, in which Pansy was able to get a small view of his stomach.

 _Damn Longbottom! You've got abs!_

The short look at Neville's midriff had produced a number of distinct, physical changes in Pansy's body. Her heartbeat was suddenly beating profusely in her ears, her mouth felt dry, and her breathing was ragged and barely even.

"Everything okay? You look red," Neville asked, which caused the warmth on her cheeks, that Pansy was all too aware of already, to burn hotter, and she assumed, made her face redden further. _Bugger._

"Yep, I'm fine. Did you get the plant? Oh yeah," Pansy over-enthusiastically examined the tray Neville had placed at the end of the long, wooden table that ran the centre of the Greenhouse. "there it is!" _And now I sound crazy._

Neville picked their plant up by its pot and lifted it from the tray, before once more stretching his tall form to replace the tray on the topmost shelf. _Oh, hello Longbottom's abs. It's been a while._

"You ready?" Neville asked, gesturing towards the door, once the tray was back in its original position.

 _Oh, you have no idea._ Pansy let out a small cough, feeling incredibly grateful in that moment that Neville was not an accomplished Legilimens. "Yeah, will it be okay to take it with us?"

"We can replace it afterwards, it won't be a problem."

 _Excellent, that means I'll see your abs again._ Pansy nodded in response as they began to make their way towards the Greenhouse door, surprised when Neville stopped, he was in front of her and therefore leading the pair towards the exit.

"Pansy?"

"Yeah?"

He had turned on the spot to face her. Rarely had they been in this position, and it was only then that Pansy realised just how tall and built Neville now was. She had no idea why he'd stopped them here, but she did know that somehow, his presence made her feel a little bit safer.

"You look... really pretty today. I just...wanted you to know that. I know I can't really say it," he gestured with a nod of his head towards the door, "out there."

Pansy took a second to answer, her thoughts whirled as they stood. "Thank you," she eventually managed to breathe, no louder than a whisper. "I-I'm glad you did tell me."

Neville nodded, looking down at her intently. He didn't speak and neither did she. They were simply _there_ together, and as Pansy looked at his face it felt as though every piece of their lives was stripped away. In Greenhouse Three they were no longer Pansy Parkinson, daughter of a Death Eater, promised servant to Voldemort, and Neville Longbottom, self-proclaimed fighter and advocate for the resistance. There was no Gryffindor, or Slytherin, or even Hogwarts. No rivalry, no fighting, and no war. Just... _them._

Pansy held her breath, not knowing if she was brave enough to believe he had taken a tiny step forward, towards her. Neville made a few more small movements until she _knew_ she wasn't imagining him coming closer to her. Her pounding heart was the only sound Pansy was aware of. She felt a hand softly land on her right arm, and after daring herself to look up, Neville's face was slowly, but surely, closing in on her own. She instinctively held her breath as she felt herself move just the tiniest bit forward.

She could see each individual one of his facial hairs and feel each of his warm breaths when a sound both disturbing and inescapably loud forced their attentions away from each other. Pansy and Neville both turned to face the door, pulling out their wands in unison as the piercing scream rang out once more.


	15. So Utterly un-Longbottom

.

Part One | Strike the Match

Fifteen. _So Utterly un-Longbottom_

* * *

Neville and Pansy reacted in a perfect unison as they grabbed their respective wands, both bringing the thin, magical instruments upwards in an identical narrow sweep. All thoughts _almost_ forgotten of what had been mere seconds away from happening as the pair locked their eyes together for a brief - and somehow reassuring, second. Neville moved first, Pansy right behind as they swiftly crossed the floor of the greenhouse. Pansy's breath was unintentionally being held somewhere beneath her chest as she watched Neville throw the glass door open, his wand held high and concern now covering his face.

The scream echoed again, and Pansy hadn't contemplated the fact that the greenhouse walls muffled any outside noise and the piercing cry of distress felt altogether more alarming without the thick glass cushioning the sound. Instinctively, bringing her own wand up higher, Pansy poised herself in the position she needed to be in, to defend…

 _...or attack._

Neville stopped at the doorway, wand arm raised as he clearly scrutinised the vicinity of the grounds. His left arm had shot sideways, straight and still across the remainder of the doorway, essentially fencing Pansy in the greenhouse. She wrinkled her nose for a fleeting moment, having crashed into his temporary barrier. She had no time to evaluate her feelings towards his blatant act of protection, however, as a third, and arguably more alarming scream broke the silence echoing over the seemingly deserted landscape.

"The lake!" Neville cried.

The two shot off, Neville taking a hairbreadth of a lead, towards the Black Lake. Pansy could scarcely remember the last time she ran anywhere, pure adrenaline guiding her, allowing her to keep up with Neville's quick pace. Two further screams broke the surrounding air as they ran, this time closer together and fainter, the latter seeming to stop abruptly, as though altogether cut off.

The surface of the water became clear to Pansy the closer they got, and sure enough, various sparks could be seen flying. Some were fizzling into the black water, clearly having missed their intended target, others merely flying in the air haphazardly. There were a few, more than a few, that were obviously successful in their determined flight path. She and Neville slowed to a stop, inspecting the scene, and Pansy saw with certainty, the shape of a young girl on her knees; alone, and wandless.

Pansy didn't have to look far to find the other half of this sinister scenario, and in absolute horror, she counted not one opposing figure, but two. Two large bodies stood, not far away from the girl, lights darting from all of their wands. Their backs were to the Castle, and Pansy and Neville stood unseen for a short second before Pansy's peripheral vision informed her that Neville's wand was raised as he took aim. Spinning around, a plan having already formulated in her mind, she raised a hand, hoping to momentarily pause his advance and not wanting him to hex without hearing her first.

He spun on the spot, rounding on her, his face was unlike she had ever witnessed it. His stance alone was threatening.

"Don't you dare stop me, they're _torturing_ her. She looks to be about a third year, and, Merlin," he pointed to the sky above the lake, "we're going to have company."

Pansy's eyes had widened in shock the moment he'd turned on her. A side of Longbottom that seemed so utterly _un-Longbottom_ she would scarcely have believed it existed had she not seen it with her own eyes, and yet what felt the most unbelievable was not his actions, but his words - _Don't you dare stop me._ That's what he had said. He believed she wouldn't put a stop to this? Did he think she felt a loyalty to Crabbe and fucking Goyle right now? She glanced away from him briefly, his words still stinging, in order to see what he had seen in the sky and gasped. A genuine fear crept over her as a number of dementors had begun to make their way, soundlessly, towards the scene. Pansy's mind went into overdrive, and taking charge of the situation she said hurriedly, "Go for Goyle, I'll get Crabbe."

She heard Neville inhale sharply, and saw him quickly incline his head before his wand poised again, towards the head of Gregory Goyle.

Pansy herself reeled around, instantly spotting the figure of a girl she'd once considered a friend, a hollow, victory-fueled laugh emitted from Vincent Crabbe's cold stature.

"Stupefy!" she cried, mimicking the spell Neville had said loudly a second before.

Goyle hit the ground just as Crabbe began to fall, he hit the ground with an undignified and large thud that even Pansy, who was standing with Neville a good twenty feet away, heard quite clearly.

The girl by the water had been crouched on her knees with her head in her hands. Pansy saw her gingerly look up, gawking at the sight of her two attackers lying, unmoving, on the ground. Pansy breathed deeply, noticing the breath she'd taken was exhaled in a cloud of white mist whilst she simultaneously realised she had begun to shiver. _Dementors. Shit._

"Longbottom, we need to move!"

"I know, I know…Hey! Come on!" Neville shouted, gesturing wildly to the girl by the lake. Luckily, she didn't need telling twice and Pansy watched, relieved as she began a sprint towards them. When the girl reached them Pansy saw her face had two distinct hex marks, resembling burns, and the collar of her grey T-shirt was torn badly, the garment close to coming undone entirely.

"C'mon!" Pansy cried to the young girl and Neville, knowing that the impending dementors left no time for either formalities or niceties.

Somehow, they made it within a close proximity to the castle, the sun was high in the cloudless sky and the picturesque Scottish view would have looked beautiful to Pansy - were she not running for her life from crazed soul-sucking creatures, of course. Risking a glance over her shoulder, Pansy's mind eased as she saw no sign of dementors close by. The only one currently visibly to her still looming over the forest, quite a distance away. Her two companions slowed to her lead and the unlikely trio halted, all gasping for breath.

The main doors to the castle were open, and the three began to walk towards the large entrance. It was Neville who spoke first, addressing the girl who looked no older than fourth-year, directly. "What's your name?" Pansy heard him enquire.

"Olivia," she replied, her voice barely more than a terrified sounding squeak.

"Okay, Olivia, I'm Neville. This...is Pansy. I'm going to take you to the Hospital Wing now, okay? Madame Pomfrey needs to see those marks on your face." Olivia nodded in response, her eyes still wide, but Pansy noted the alarm had left her expression somewhat at Neville's words.

"There's something I...we, need from you though, okay? When Madame Pomfrey asks you what happened, I need you to only mention me, not Pansy, can you do that?"

Olivia nodded, before turning to face Pansy. "Yes, I can. But...I'm really grateful."

Pansy gulped, nodding. She felt overwhelmed with everything, and yet nothing in particular. She wanted to scream, and cry, and hex the shit out of Crabbe and Goyle, wondering briefly whether the dementors would kiss their stupefied bodies, whilst only a second later realising that she didn't care if they did. Not knowing how to put anything into words, she continued nodding, mutely. Her eyes left Olivia's scarred face and looked up at Neville. Her admiration for him had increased ten-fold in the last fifteen or so minutes, yet, his words echoed through her all over again, a river of hurt flowing through her veins. _Don't you dare stop me._ She swallowed. _Did you really believe I wanted to?_

His eyes met hers, the pair of beautiful and unreadable blue orbs. "Can you wait, in the library, where we were earlier?"

Pansy let a long breath out through her nose, and yet again not trusting herself to emit a single word, nodded once and turned on her heel before her eyes betrayed her to him again. The three entered the Castle and separated; Neville and Olivia towards the Hospital Wing and Pansy towards the library, silently, as though it was no more than mere coincidence that brought them entering the Castle together at that moment.

The library was empty, for the most part. Something Pansy was altogether grateful for as she made her way through the countless shelves of heavy tomes, ending up at the exact table her and Neville had occupied only an hour, or so, prior. _Most eventful hour of my fucking life._

Pansy's mind seemed to be in fast forward. She remembered the morning, where she'd fretted over her hair. _Hair! Talk about a trivial problem._

The sight of Neville's rather pleasing midriff, and the memory of him closing himself into her drifted in and out of the view of her mind's eye. They'd been so close before they'd heard Olivia scream. _Did I really almost kiss Neville Longbottom?_

And then, of course there was his _Don't you dare stop me_. It had been accompanied by a look that Pansy hoped against hope that he never directed at her again. But the very fact it _had_ been? Well, didn't that just prove he held significant doubt over her allegiances? _Can't really blame him,_ Pansy thought with a heavy heart, wondering if this is what the rest of her days would entail.

Neville didn't take long to appear from the Hospital Wing, considering. Yet it had felt like an age to Pansy, who had sat, stark still, arms loosed over her chest. She felt his hand tap her shoulder lightly as he cleared his throat lightly. She turned her face to meet his and was relieved to see a small smile on his face. _Doesn't seem like he absolutely hates me, at least that's something._

Neville, unlike Pansy, didn't take the same seat he'd been occupying this morning. Instead, he chose to take the seat nearest to his current position, next to her other side. Her arms tightened around herself as she waited for him to speak, feeling an unpleasant sinking feeling as he opened his mouth to address her. "I owe you an apology."

 _You...what?_ Pansy blinked, fairly certain she'd misheard. "For what?" Her words blunter than she intended.

"I...assumed...wrongly out there. It wasn't you. Please believe me when I say I would have reacted the same had I felt _anyone_ was trying to stop me from...well, stopping that."

"You didn't think I was protecting them?"

"It...wasn't about you, or them. It just _was._ It's complicated, sort of, but it's entirely about me. And I'm sorry, for the way I turned on you about it."

Pansy nodded, relief washing over her as she processed his words, which didn't really answer a whole lot, but gave Pansy enough alleviation from her worry. She watched him for a few seconds more; his face had dropped downwards, his eyes looking at the desk in front of them, but Pansy knew he was really miles away, a look upon him she'd only seen properly once, when the wand of Alecto Carrow was pointed towards him.

"Tell me," she said before she gave herself the opportunity to wonder if it was a good idea to pry so hard. "If...if you want to, I mean."

Neville breathed deeply through his nose, not acknowledging her words straight away. She saw his eyes shut tightly, as an expression of pain on his face heightened. "It's okay," Pansy whispered, horrified at the effect that whatever was causing him such emotional turmoil was doing to him. "You don't have to-" she stopped as he raised his head, blue eyes meeting green. Pansy continued, "You can tell me if you want, or you can tell me nothing if that's easier. But you _can_ trust me, Neville."

Neville jerked at her words, his name had sounded foreign, coming from her mouth, even to Pansy herself. She wasn't entirely sure she'd ever said his first name aloud before, and from the way Neville's eyebrow raised slightly, neither was he.

"I know. I don't know _how_ I know, but for some bonkers reason I do trust you," he said.

Pansy smiled softly at his use of the word _bonkers,_ such a small thing highlighting just how different they were, as Pansy's own choice of descriptor of the same thing would have probably contained more than a few expletives. "I...trust you too," she replied quietly. "It is totally... _bonkers,_ " she finished, shooting him a sly smile, which earned her a small laugh from the Gryffindor.

"Swearing suits you much more, you know," he said with another quick chuckle.

"Thank fuck," Pansy answered, joining his laugh.

Neville watched her, his hands clasped together tightly the entire time he'd been sitting, separated. His left arm, the closest to her, reached forward and brushed a single, stray dark hair away from her eye. The slight movement caused Pansy to involuntarily shudder slightly, knowing that, in that moment, him touching her was all she wanted. She turned her head towards him, not caring that they were in the library and could be come across at any given moment, by any given person.

In that moment, it was no longer about wanting him.

It was about _needing_ him.

He brought his hand down again, much to Pansy's disappointment. She watched, as he swallowed, his eyes never leaving hers as he spoke, "Torture is not an easy thing for me to deal with. I was raised by my grandmother because...my parents live in St. Mungo's. They were tortured...really badly, by Bellatrix Lestrange, her husband, and his brother…"

 _...and his brother._

Pansy felt a sick heat somewhere in the pit of her stomach. Rodolphus Lestrange had only one brother.

"They endured so many Cruciatus Curses that….they went insane," Neville finished.

Pansy listened in silence, horrified. If she hadn't already changed her allegiance entirely, watching Neville confess the most painful part of his life, would have been the moment she defected.

"I never...never knew," Pansy answered, meekly. She felt a strong urge to do something, anything to comfort him.

 _Fuck them all._

With even less thought than before about the fact they were not in any sort of privacy, Pansy leaned towards Neville, snaking her arms around his neck, feeling confident enough she could hex anyone who happened to come across them at that moment into oblivion. She felt him hesitate for a fraction of a second before he allowed himself to be pulled into her fully, his hands grabbing fistfuls of her hair as she pressed her face into his shoulder.

Pansy didn't know how long they stayed like that, holding each other, each leaning into the other, as though they were the only two people left on Earth, but she did know that for the first time in her life, _this_ was where she was meant to be. She considered his words again, and the unspoken part where she just knew she was one of only few people to know his deepest secret, a fact which saddened and humbled her all at once. She breathed deeply, inhaling him.

He smelled of earth... _and autumn days_.

"It's probably not even going to be in _any_ book _here!"_ A vaguely familiar voice spoke into the quiet of the library.

 _Shit!_ It had been well and good for Pansy to definitely think that she cared not about them getting caught, it was quite another thing to actively allow herself to remain in a compromising position with Neville whilst they were made aware of an impending intrusion, something he seemed to agree on as they broke apart simultaneously.

A pair of sixth-year Ravenclaws came into view, both stopping abruptly at the obscure sight of Pansy Parkinson and Neville Longbottom sitting together. Pansy began to panic, feeling entirely caught off guard.. She scowled at the two boys, whilst darting her eyes at Neville, who was facing away from the approaching pair, facing Pansy with a smile upon his face. Pansy frowned as Neville shot her a quick wink, before slamming a clenched fist upon the desk and beginning a tangent that Daphne would have been proud of, his voice raised and his arms flying dramatically as he got up from his seat and began to stomp about.

"You are one of the _worst_ partners I've _ever_ been given, do you know that? I've done every bit of work for Herbology while you've sat there brushing your bloody hair! Which doesn't look any better, by the way, Parkinson!"

Pansy's eyes widened and her jaw dropped, Neville was still facing her, away from the two Ravenclaws, his eyebrows were raised and his top teeth were biting his lower lip to stop himself from laughing. She looked over his shoulder, the two boys looked altogether less shocked but had busied themselves closeby, clearly interested in Pansy's response.

 _Well, it had better be believable..._

The slap echoed through the library and Pansy saw the Ravenclaws raise their eyes, look at each other quickly and hot foot it from the room.

"Hey!" Neville hissed. "You didn't have to hit me!"

"I'll make it up to you later, maybe."

"Looking forward to it," Neville replied, with an uncharacteristic smirk.

Pansy narrowed her eyes. "Don't be talking shit about my hair, Longbottom."

"Your hair is lovely."

"Much better."

Neville looked over his shoulder, his eyes darting in every direction before relaxing, resting back upon Pansy. "I think they're gone."

"I think you're right."

Somehow, they were now both standing though Pansy wasn't entirely sure she remembered standing up. Neville took a step towards her just as Pansy bit her bottom lip, her heart suddenly beating fast as a strong, captivating sense of deja vu took over her. Neville emulated the exact way he moved towards her in the greenhouse earlier. Pansy swallowed, taking a step towards him also. He was so close to her now, she could, once again, make out the individual hairs of his stubble, until…

A set of footsteps, accompanied by a loud, distinctly _Irish,_ "You here, Nev?"

 _Are you fucking kidding me?!_ She heard Neville groan audibly as Seamus Finnigan came into view from behind them. Neville took a large step away from Pansy, though, she noted, he looked particularly reluctant about doing so.

"Ah, Neville, thought I'd come rescue you!"

"Right, great. Thanks, Seamus," Neville mumbled. Pansy was amused to see his teeth were gritted. "We'll finish it another time, then?"

Pansy shot him a look which she knew was full of disdain and saw the amused ghost of a smile briefly cross Neville's mouth. "I can _hardly_ contain myself, Longbottom." Before she strode away, making sure to bump her shoulder hard against Finnigan as she walked past.

 _Stupid. Irish. Pillock!_


	16. Light & Dark, and Everything in Between

.

Part One | Strike the Match

Sixteen. _Light and Dark, and Everything In Between_

* * *

Their session of Occlumency had been, by far, the longest they'd kept at it. Pansy watched, as the images flashed behind her lids.

Each memory faded as a new one was pulled forward.

 _"I swear, child. If you don't stop that incessant snivelling, I'll smack you so hard you won't be able to sit down for a week."_

"Fuck! Draco! NO!"

Panting, Pansy opened her eyes; she hadn't the faintest clue as to why she was on her knees. She looked up, blinking; her hands were clamped shut and damp with sweat, her right grasped tightly around her wand atop her thigh. Her hair, which was partly dripping in sweat fell over her face in a big, dark wave, obscuring her vision. The living area of their quarters had been cleared, all furniture had been magically shrunk and stacked on the kitchen counter and Draco was directly opposite Pansy, occupying a space near the door as he lay on the ground in a crumpled heap. Pansy watched as he gingerly got to his feet, wiping his hands on the front of his trousers, his face was grim before it suddenly broke into an uncharacteristically large smile.

"That's the strongest you've ever blocked me."

"I don't understand why you have to keep going to that bloody memory," Pansy grumbled, as she too raised herself to standing, retrieving a hair tie from a pocket as she did.

"I've told you, because that's the memory you want to bury the most. I'm sorry," he added, his voice genuine, "but it worked. You threw me out of your mind entirely."

"Yeah, I guess."

Draco paused, regarding Pansy with his steely eyes. "You know, I never knew she was such an arsehole."

"Well, once I started Hogwarts I was out of her hair enough to mostly avoid being, you know, beaten."

Draco nodded and pulled his t-shirt off, he appeared to be just as sweaty as she was. Pansy, determined to push all memories of her childhood back into the depths of her mind once more, wrinkled her nose slightly as she observed Draco dab his armpits with the damp shirt.

"You know," Draco began, "there was a time you'd have pounced on me for looking like this. Merlin knows what fucking happened, to make you drool like a rabid dog over _Longbottom,_ and you to look at all of _this_ ," he gestured arrogantly down his naked torso, "with _that_ look on your face. That's a fucking sin, Pans," he finished with a quick shake of his head and a sigh.

* * *

Between their classes, Occlumency practices and prefect patrols, somehow their days at Hogwarts had now rolled into weeks. Pansy found herself writing the date at the top of the newest prefect's schedule and realised, with a slight eyebrow raise of disbelief, that time had somehow surpassed a month and a half, and it was now the middle of October. Pansy hurriedly scribbled the final two names into the schedule, her own along with another. With a sigh, she examined the last line in particular: **Friday, 24th October. Patrol Duty - P. Parkinson (Slytherin) & N. Longbottom (Gryffindor). **

Pansy's Herbology lessons over the past month had consisted of a strange partnership between Pansy and Neville. The week after their near-kiss in the Greenhouse left her feeling more confused than ever. Had it not been for the interruption of Crabbe and Goyle's horrific torture practice - who had annoyingly appeared later the same day, having somehow avoided the Dementor's kiss - what would have transpired between them? And then the even nearer kiss in the library, which Pansy was still seething at Finnegan for interrupting, she wanted more than anything to heed Draco's words; _go be happy,_ but the truth was, the Carrows frightened her, and her parent's involvement with Voldemort frightened. The fact she still hadn't heard from Rabastan frightened her, as did the prospect _of_ hearing from him, especially now she knew the incredibly sad truth of Neville's parents, she just didn't know if she had the strength to g _o be happy,_ right now. Coupled with the fact that Neville seemed mysteriously busier than usual, and Draco insisting that they practise Occlumency on an almost daily basis, the very concept of happiness felt a lifetime away.

The Carrows had informed her and Draco only earlier that day that they were going to keep a much greater eye on the older Gryffindor students, since learning of the secret club most of them had been a member of, two years prior.

"Some sort of Army, they called themselves," Alecto had explained.

"Yeah, we, err, helped catch them in fifth-year, actually…" Pansy trailed off, glancing sideways at Draco _,_ which earned her a look of admiration from Alecto. She felt a surge of embarrassment at the memory. Umbridge, _Umbitch_ , as Daphne had coined her _,_ had filled the Slytherin's heads with a ton of promises for their assistance in catching the Gryffindors in the act: rewards, money, favours from the Ministry - the list had gone on, until one day she'd disappeared into the forest, led by Potter and Granger, and was apparently sexually assaulted by a Centaur heard. They had been informed afterwards that Umbridge had no right to promise any such prizes and they'd done her bidding for nothing. Pansy had vowed that was the last time she would blindly follow anyone, and the humiliation that she'd been a part of the joke that was the _Inquisitorial Squad_ was still raw, two years on.

 _If anything, it explains why he's seemed so busy,_ Pansy thought, wondering what Longbottom got up to in his secret club. An odd jealousy she would never admit to coursed through her as she imagined Weaslette and the other Gryffindor girls being a part of the club with him. _But he doesn't_ look _at them the way he looks at me._ The _way_ he watched her, his piercing blue eyes seemed to all at once soften and yet still drive straight through her. Lingering, yet brief, and soft, yet serious - somehow the way in which Neville Longbottom looked at her was both light and dark, and everything in between.

Pansy, herself, now felt an alteration in the presence of Neville. Whereas at the very start of the year she had shied away at every and any look he cast in her direction. Now she found her eyes following him at whatever chance they got, welcoming the chance meetings that their pupils had. She now possessed a well-researched knowledge of his many expressions and mannerisms; the way his long fingers automatically hurriedly pushed his sleeves up at the beginning of every Herbology lesson, the way his fringe now sat upwards to the right, a wave of deep brown above his forehead, the curved indents that appeared in the corner of each eyebrow when he frowned. Whatever the Carrows' did, how close an eye they kept upon the wizard she so desperately yearned to be hers, they couldn't take the way she was able to look, _really look,_ at him, unseen by many surrounding eyes. It was the smallest victory Pansy could imagine, yet all she held onto as she went searching for him, her steps as slow as her heart was heavy, having bid Draco farewell after their Occlumency practice, was that he seemed to hold the same victory by the way his own eyes sought her out.

She'd caught up to him finally, although much sooner than she would have liked _,_ in a first-floor corridor. Briefly, Pansy stated that the Carrows were going to be watching him more closely than before. If she could have described Neville at that moment, the moment she informed him that she _had_ to keep a distance, she would probably have used the word downtrodden _,_ but, downtrodden was a large understatement for the sheer unhappiness that had befallen the Gryffindor at her words. Harder for Pansy still, Neville had relented at her words without question, with what she knew was an entire understanding of her current situation.

In any other circumstances, it may have been almost funny, the chilly demeanour she tried to upkeep. She knew, of course _,_ that Neville saw through her guise completely - which was something of an odd comfort, when the rest of her life felt like an exhausting chaos. It was one thing to have the whole of Hogwarts believing she held Longbottom in the same regard as a flobberworm, which, Pansy was fairly certain 99% of the student body would confirm had they happened to be asked, yet it felt entirely more terrible were Longbottom himself to believe so, especially after the Greenhouse, after the Library...

Daphne, who, true to the word she'd given not to say anything, had become something of a Pansy-Neville advocate. She relentlessly questioned Pansy whenever they were together. Daphne was a big believer in a Muggle something she'd heard of, which she called _moon-crossed lovers._ Pansy didn't know what a moon-crossed lover was, but humoured her best friend's incessant droning on about the concept. She found herself hoping against hope that Daphne's constant insistence that she and Neville would find a way to just...be, was an untold prophecy and not a hopeless dream.

Draco remained oddly supportive to Pansy's relinquishing, yet unwanted feelings towards Neville - even in spite of him being present during the conversation with the Carrows. The conversation which had ultimately all but forced Pansy to distance herself from the Gryffindor.

Until one day, after even more of their usual nightly fill of firewhisky, Draco had admitted, whilst in the process of falling into yet another whisky-infused slumber _,_ that ever since the night in which he, Pansy, and Neville had drunk whisky and shared a number of stories, he thought "Longbottom wasn't _that_ bad a bloke", and Draco felt he could "actually trust him with _his_ Pans."

Pansy smiled sadly whenever she recalled Draco's words, and longed for him, if they were to somehow make it through this war, that Draco found the love that Pansy knew he deserved, someone who _Pansy_ could trust with _her_ Draco.

* * *

Entering the Slytherin common room for the third time that week, Pansy immediately spotted one of her most encouraging sights; her friends lounging across a set of two grand, green leather couches, a coffee table centred in the small group.

"You took your bloody time! I thought you'd be desperate to spend more time in my presence."

"Hah! Sorry babes, you're out of luck!" Pansy hastily replied, shooting Theo a look of mock pity.

Her imminent arrival at the common room had indeed been made longer, initially by the coming across of a couple of first-year girls, both, Pansy noted, were Hufflepuffs and their tear-stained faces looked nothing short of terrified as they huddled together in a corridor not far from the Entrance Hall.

"We can't, Jessie. The woman one said they check all of our owls home." Pansy heard one girl say. The other, Jessie, had gulped hard and nodded, saying nothing in response. Pansy watched, Jessie was the only one of the pair that was facing her, and Pansy could see the girl was close to tears again. She's pretty, Pansy had thought to herself, noting the girl's soft natural curls, which fell in a frenzy of black ringlets down the sides of her pale face. Her eyes, ringed with red, were a bright green and not too dissimilar from Pansy's own.

"Do you two need me to walk you back to your common room?" Pansy hadn't known what made her say anything. She was supposed to be keeping up Draco's stupid pretence, but she knew she couldn't leave these two frightened eleven-year-olds here unprotected, not when she'd witnessed, at yet another of their ridiculous meetings she and Draco had been summoned to, only the day before, the look in Alecto Carrow's eyes when she'd openly spoken of the cursing of certain students. The Death Eater had briefly mentioned something about _first-years being easy target practice,_ in such a manner than Pansy had found herself forced into pretending she was experiencing a coughing fit to disguise her body's desire to dry-heave.

"N-no, thank you." The first girl had spoken, her blue eyes, which bore a striking resemblance to the eyes that were worn on all three of the Greengrass women, were sad and her short, blonde bob needed a good wash.

"Okay, look. The Carrows, right now, are probably still in the Great Hall. So, go back to your common room. If they appear, I'll be able to see and distract them, and you can walk past safely, okay?"

Both girls looked positively more terrified and Pansy, not one for offering much in the way of a comforting arm, stood tall and beckoned the girls to start walking. As they turned away, Pansy found her speaking aloud to them once more, "Once you're back, do any homework you have for tomorrow then go have baths, and try to relax, okay?" Two pairs of eyes, one green and the other blue, stared up at Pansy as they nodded in unison, something Pansy knew countless people had witnessed her and Daphne do over the years. Beckoning to them once more, she watched as they hurriedly tore across the Entrance Hall and disappeared down the corridor Pansy knew led to the kitchens and the Hufflepuff common room.  
Pansy watched, just as she had promised, for any sign of either Carrow. "Thank fuck," she said aloud after no such Death Eater had been spotted, and Pansy felt relatively sure that Jessie and her friend would more than likely be safe in the confines of Hufflepuff House by now. She made to leave herself in the same direction when a voice rang out from behind her. A voice that made her equal parts on edge and completely comforted.

"Just when I think you won't do anything that'll surprise me more."

Pansy closed her eyes. Her mouth, which had initially gasped, closed and the briefly tightened grip, loosened around her wand. Taking a deep breath, Pansy retorted, "Dangerous time to be sneaking up on people, didn't you know?" Before she turned around and was propelled, once again, under the scrutinising and perfect stare of Neville Longbottom.

Neville snorted. "Trust a Slytherin to say something like _that_ when they receive a compliment." Which gave Pansy a turn to snort.

"If that's the best compliment you can come up with Longbottom, then-"

"Believe me," he cut her off, "I could think of about a hundred better compliments right now."

Pansy's breath was somewhere in her throat, caught and with no hope of being relinquished. _Say them,_ she internally pleaded with him, _please, say them all._

Somehow, she managed to swallow and briefly scanned their surroundings, which, although mostly empty, still held a handful of students exiting dinner. Pansy, for some unbeknownst-to-herself reason, grabbed the arm of Longbottom's... _is that a cardigan?_ And dragged him through the closest door to them, which led to an empty storage room. Spare desks and chairs lined three of the walls and five dusty blackboards were lined up against the fourth.

"Cosy," Neville remarked.

Pansy released Neville's sleeve and turned on her heel, annoyed at his remark, _It's not supposed to be cosy!_ Taking a deep breath, Pansy began, "You...you can't...You heard what I said about the Carrows! I don't know what you think you're…. you just...this _can't._ "

"Why? I mean, really, why?!" Neville demanded. All his previous sarcasm lost, he looked a certain way Pansy couldn't place, _angry, maybe?_

"BECAUSE WE'LL BE KILLED, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!"

"Killed for what?" Neville asked whilst flicking his wand in what Pansy could only guess was a silencing charm.

 _Oh, you are fucking relentless._

"You know what!"

"I need to hear you say it!"

"FOR FUCK'S SAKE LONGBOTTOM. YOU! ME! ME! YOU! YOU...I KNOW YOU WANTED...I KNOW YOU WANT...TO… _I WAS THERE,_ _YOU KNOW,_ IN THE GREENHOUSE AND...AND THE LIBRARY!" Pansy's arms were being thrown about, her hair was wild, and her voice was a shout.

Neville's whole body halted, his breathing came out ragged and uneven, his eyes bored into hers as he stood, unmoving.

 _Say anything!_

Neville let out a relieved-sounding bark of laughter.

 _Oh yes, this is fucking hysterical._

"What the fuck is so funny?"

"I just, it's supposed to be Gryffindors who are the reckless ones; Slytherins are meant to observe a situation first."

"Oh yes, that is funny. See how much I'm laughing now." Pansy shot him the most loathsome look she could muster; her arms crossed her chest and her face burning with embarrassment.

The room was silent for an excruciatingly long minute, all the while Pansy wishing she could transfigure herself into a floor tile and leave him standing there alone, until Neville finally spoke, his voice small, none of his earlier passion remotely visible.

"You're right." he mustered, shooting her a quick glance before continuing an examination of his own shoes. "Of course, you're right. In fact, you are _so_ right, I don't think about much else. And after that day, in the Greenhouse and then later in the library..." Pansy watched as he swallowed and raised his eyes to meet hers once more.

Pansy took a deep breath, finding her voice came out not much louder than a whisper, "I _told_ you, we have to stay away from each other. We'd be killed."

"You don't know that, you can't possibly know that."

"I do. My...family, they... they're in too far... if I can't be, what everybody already thinks I am, I'm as good as dead."

"We'll work something…"

"No!" Pansy stopped him. "You don't understand, we'll never be safe to…" She wondered, fleetingly whether she should glamour away the tears that had begun to fall. Figuring there wasn't much point now, she left them to fall, and fall they did. Until a pair of rough, yet gentle hands swiftly wiped each one away. Breathing had now become an arduous task as Pansy found herself gasping, her tears now falling so thick and fast, she erupted in sobs. And his arms, the only arms Pansy wanted to feel around herself, snaked their way across her sides to rest on her back, as she fell forwards into the waiting chest of Neville Longbottom.


	17. Wanting You

Part One | Strike the Match

Seventeen. _Wanting You_

* * *

"Okay, will you _please_ put me out of my misery?" Draco asked in a bored sounding drawl after handing Pansy a glass of their usual night time firewhisky. The pair were back in their own living quarters now, having stayed later than they had intended in the company of their friends down in the Slytherin common room.

"What are you talking about?" Pansy answered, examining the liquid, knowing exactly what the jist of Draco's next sentence would be, inwardly cursing his ability to read her so well.

"Don't give me that. From the moment you arrived tonight, very late, may I add, you've been acting way weirder than usual-"

"I do not act weird, Draco Malfoy!"

"-one minute you're trying to hide a stupid, dopey smile and the next you look like you're worried you're about to be attacked any second. What the fuck?" he finished haughtily, ignoring her interruption entirely.

Pansy sighed, she'd been fairly certain she'd hidden the smiles that had kept creeping up on her, tugging at the corners of her mouth _,_ fairly well. Not well enough, clearly. The witch continued to stare into her tumbler as the liquor inside swirled with the slight wrist action she had began. Pansy watched the liquid intently, before her mind switched to another scene entirely, a scene that a mere four hours earlier had been an emotional whirlwind, and Pansy wasn't at all sure if she felt relief, or more confusion.

* * *

 _At first, he did nothing more than hold her. His arms held her in a lock of warmth whilst his chest provided a surface of quiet relief. Somehow, in this shitty world they now existed in, he understood, and he genuinely seemed to care about what happened to her. Pansy could barely even register the words he'd said, but one truth was racing about at the forefront of her mind, between the sheer terror that was the reasoning behind her sobs;_ he feels the same way about me _. She'd known of course, she knew he felt_ something _. He hadn't exactly been subtle in the way he'd almost kissed her, sent her notes, or brushed her hair away from her face in the library, but to have it affirmed, in his own words, to know for sure that maybe, the thing she so badly wanted to fight for, wanted to fight for her, too, was in that moment as though a thousand weights had been somehow lifted._

 _One of Neville's hands began to move upwards and Pansy felt it stroking her dark hair softly. He didn't speak until, after what felt like an age, she was able to regain control of her emotions, at least outwardly so._

 _Swallowing, she took a small step backwards, looking up into Neville's face as she felt his hand leave her hair, both of her upper arms receiving a small squeeze, before Neville, looking rather reluctant about doing so, lowered his arms to his sides. The comfort she'd overwhelmingly felt whilst his arms were around her, although she still felt deeply grateful for his actions, was rapidly melting into a blunt embarrassment. Finding herself attempting to form a coherent sentence, a task that was made inherently more difficult due to the fact that her brain was nothing more than a dead weight of mush right now, Pansy didn't have a clue how to properly form her words._

" _I..I don't...I'm sorry…" she trailed off, feeling her face redden with warmth. Looking down, Pansy wasn't sure how she'd ever meet Neville's eyes again._

" _Don't be sorry." His voice was soft, and honest, so much so that Pansy took a deep breath and forced her gaze upwards; his brow was furrowed within his intense expression and Pansy fought back the tears that were now threatening to reemerge._

 _She watched as he swallowed, before he spoke next, "Please, don't be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for."_

" _Longbottom, you don't understand-"_

 _He cut her off, his tone changing slightly as the seriousness of the subject came forth. "I_ do _understand Pansy. More than you think. I know I'm in danger, I know you're in danger. I know the Carrows would probably love the chance to torture me a million times more than Alecto already has. I know that," he gestured to the space between them, as Pansy found her breath was somewhat irregular. She couldn't tear her eyes from his face as he spoke, "whatever_ this _is, is a massive risk, so much of a risk that I hate myself for not staying away from you, like I know I should. But I also know that, from the second I looked at you on the Hogwarts Express, something had changed. You weren't the same Pansy Parkinson I remembered and I have no idea why. That day, it almost felt like I could forget the whole world. I've told you my deepest secret and I want to tell you a hundred more secrets, and hear all of yours. I want...no, I_ need _to protect you, but I really, really don't want to have to stay away from you to do that. I haven't the faintest idea why I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since the first day back, or why I can't stop..." he paused again, and this time he was the one that looked down, avoiding her eyes. He swallowed hard, before closing his eyes for a brief moment, as though psyching himself up to continue, "wanting you."_

 _Pansy's thoughts were blank as she attempted, fruitlessly, to properly process his words. He wanted her. He'd flat out told her that he wanted her. Neville Longbottom wanted Pansy Parkinson, and Pansy Parkinson knew she wanted him right back. She dared herself to look at him, her breath, not for the first time that evening, was doing something unbeknownst to her, entirely of its own volition._

 _She had to say something, she knew that much. Forcing herself to swallow hard, Pansy opened her mouth, breathing hard, before a sharp intake of breath was drawn from both their mouths. A loud voice, accompanied by an even louder voice, was clearly walking down the corridor the room they were currently occupying lay in._

Carrows. Both. Male and female. Amycus and Alecto. Approaching fast. Shit.

 _Pansy felt something grab her arm and swivelling her head around, she realised Neville was gripping her gently. She watched as he brought his right hand up to his face and placed a long index finger vertically over his mouth, signalling that she remain quiet._ Really, Longbottom? Because, of course, I'd been planning to start blaring out the National Anthem.

 _The voices of Amycus and Alecto rapidly crescendoed as the two Death Eaters came nearer to the door that concealed the hidden pair. It became obvious that they hadn't paid the room any attention, clearly having walked straight past if the volume and direction of their voices could be believed and both Pansy and Neville let out a long, collective breath._ Thank fuck.

 _At that moment, Pansy remembered all of a sudden that her friends were awaiting her in the Slytherin common room. "I have to go," she heard herself blurt out, blushing as she realised the harshness of her tone. "I mean, my friends, they're waiting for me."_

" _Yeah," Neville awkwardly scratched the back of his head, "mine too, actually. I'll, err, see you around?" His expression hopeful as his eyes pleaded with her, and Pansy as much as she wanted to keep up her pretense,_ well, it's all but completely shattered now, _couldn't help a small smile appear on her lips. Draco's words repeated themselves over in her mind, Go have fun, as she breathed her answer. "Well, we do have a patrol together, on the 24th," she said quietly, noting the smile that crept onto Neville's face as she did._

* * *

Pansy sighed deeply, before meeting Draco's grey eyes across the living room. "You can probably guess who it involves," she began, knowing at this point that Draco was the biggest ally she had and one of her best friends; she had no want to lie to him and so she told him most everything. _Well, Draco doesn't need to know how he said he wanted me._

"So, what are you going to do?" Draco probed, his expression and tone were unreadable.

"What would you do?"

"Well, I think you're pretty much in deep either way, Pans. Honestly, I'd do what I fucking _told_ you to do, you stubborn wench; I'd go have some fucking fun. Fuck the Carrows and all their bullshit. They're watching the Gryffindors more closely? Who gives a fuck? You and Longbottom are smarter than those two walking sacks of hippogriff shit. Go. Be. Fucking. Happy." Pausing to down his firewhisky in one, smooth gulp, Draco added, pointing his finger at her, a far more serious tone overcoming his unrevealing expression. "Just don't get caught."

* * *

The following week saw the castle darken even more. The autumn feel that had resided in the air was definitely cooling; Pansy even found herself shivering inside the corridors,something she couldn't remember having experienced before, and wondered, not for the first time _,_ if the castle's magic somehow felt a disdainful gloominess at the current way in which it was being managed.

Lessons with the Carrows had intensified. After the disastrous Muggle Studies first class, several more students had now suffered the Cruciatus Curse at the wand of Alecto Carrow. Pansy could scarcely remember hating anyone more. Their Dark Arts classes, led by Amycus, were perhaps slightly less eventful. Amycus had, thus far, not actually cursed any of the students, something which surprised and relieved Pansy, although his job now entailed teaching the entire student body about dark hexes, potions, and artifacts. He, at least, didn't seem to possess quite the same desire to physically harm the young witches and wizards.

In one such Muggle Studies classes, Alecto had began to read aloud from the _My Undertaking_ book they had been presented with at the start of their first class. From what Pansy had learned from the couple of times she'd flicked through the book it simply contained more, albeit cleverly worded _,_ in depth propaganda, in a similar vein to the dozens of posters the Carrows had decorated their office and classrooms in. Pansy was grateful that Daphne, Millicent, Blaise and Theo - and if the passing whisperings were to be believed, the majority of the students - had simply not fallen for the brainwashing attempts laid out by the twin Death Eaters. There were exceptions, Pansy and Draco, who of course everyone believed to be loyal followers of Voldemort, were constantly sought out by random students; primarily Slytherins, though surprisingly enough they had now been accosted by a few rogue Ravenclaws who clearly favoured the Dark Lord's plans.

Draco and Pansy had developed a sure fire strategy to get the majority of these students to leave them alone after one, quick visit.

"Before you can cast any curse with any degree of surety," Draco was explaining to a skinny, rat-looking boy. He looked no other than fourteen and he had somehow embroidered a Dark Mark patch onto his green and silver tie; Pansy had looked at it, trying to keep the horror from her face.

Swallowing, the witch turned her attention to Draco, who was continuing, "You need to be able to take them first, so what will it be? Cruciatus? Bit steep for your first...Hmmm... I do a pretty mean stinging hex?" The boy's eyes widened as he mentally weighed up his options, mumbling something Pansy couldn't quite make out, yet sounded coincidently similar to _perhaps next time_.

Draco and Pansy watched the boy hurriedly walk away from the Head Boy and Girl. Pansy gave her head a small shake, turning back to Draco. "They really want to sign up, don't they? Fucking hell, I told you about that second year last week, didn't I? Started talking about taking the Mark and everything."

Draco scoffed. "I'm fairly certain if I'd been given it at twelve years old, I'd be dead." Pansy watched as he absent-mindedly rubbed his left forearm as he spoke. Pansy had now seen Draco's Dark Mark a number of times. It no longer phased her in the way it once did, but the thought of a child as young as twelve actively thinking that they wanted to obtain the tattoo, so strongly laced with Dark Magic, made her blood run cold.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Draco breathed, his expression darkening. Pansy followed his gaze with her own and let out an audible groan just loud enough for her friend to hear. Crabbe and Goyle were approaching; both big, both surly, and both wearing the exact same dumb expression they were famed for. Luckily, the pair failed to notice them. Pansy had informed Draco of the scene her and Neville had witnessed at the lake, and Draco, just like Pansy, no longer held any desire to exchange niceties with his once-friends.

In a strange and disturbing turn of irony, if there were any two students that were actually excelling in the pantomime that was the lessons the Carrows' taught, it would be the two of them. Neither Crabbe or Goyle had performed well in any class they'd taken at Hogwarts thus far. It was a mystery how any of them managed to pass the end of year exams every June and yet, for the first time in any of their education, they were participating in class debates, taking a multitude of notes, and begging for the chance to earn a better grade by doing extra work, only, unluckily for them, neither Carrow had been particularly interested in essay writing, or other academic assignments. Pansy and Draco had figured this was probably due to their laziness in regards to the abundance of marking they would have to do, and yet, for some inexplicable reason Crabbe and Goyle had worked tirelessly writing essays they set themselves, which included tiles such as; _A Hundred Reasons Pure Blood is the Only Blood,_ and, _How to Properly Brew a Rudimentary Body Potion._ The two had now almost entirely distanced themselves from the other seventh-year Slytherins, not that any of the rest were complaining about this.

Daphne and Blaise continued to spend the majority of their time together, Pansy was incredibly pleased for her best friend and listened earnestly as Daphne explained how she and Millicent had moved Blaise and Theo into their dormitory, and Crabbe and Goyle had remained alone in the boy's dorm, an arrangement which seemed to suit all parties. Theo and Millicent, it transpired, were tiptoeing around the fact that, according to Daphne, _they clearly want to bone._

"I think Millie's feeling a bit...conflicted," Daphne had stated one afternoon. "Her parents have openly supported You-Know-Who, and it's not like it is for you, because she actually likes her parents."

"Pans," Draco turned as he spoke, breaking Pansy's concentration from her contemplations, to face the raven haired witch after a quick, expert glance of his surroundings. "I think we need to start working on something, we're not going to be able to put off _Crucio-ing_ for much longer."

"Is this what you mentioned before? Something about nonverbal?"

Draco nodded, his face poised, clearly deep in thought. "Not here," he beckoned, nodding in the direction behind them, along a first floor corridor. "Library, I think I know what book we'll need."

* * *

 _Severus Snape addressed the sixth year class as Pansy shot her boyfriend a sideways glance as their professor spoke. "What is the advantage of a nonverbal spell?"_

Well that's obvious, so the person you're doing the spell on doesn't know what you're going to do, _Pansy thought to herself. Her left arm twitched as she made to raise it in the air to answer the question, until-_

 _"Your adversary has no warning about what kind of magic you are about to perform, which gives you a split-second advantage."_

Of course. _Pansy rolled her eyes. At least this Professor was never impressed with Granger's incessant need to answer every single question presented to every single class she was in._

 _The lesson itself had been one of their year's most humorous, for no reason other than the expressions her classmates wore as they attempted to disarm their opponent. Pansy looked across at Daphne, willing her wand to carry out her desired spell._

Come on! Expelliarmus! EXPELLIARMUS!

 _Daphne's wand left her hand with a surprised yelp from the blonde. It hadn't gone far, but Pansy had done it, she'd done what she was sure no one else in the class had managed. The dark haired sixth year looked around, a smile upon her face at her achievement, hoping to seek out Professor Snape, until..._

" _Hermione did it!"_

" _Nice one, Hermione!"_

" _Of course you'd do it first Hermione, that was amazing!"_

 _The ring of the school bell rang through a bitter Pansy as she stomped to her bag and began to pack up her notes, an encouraging Daphne following behind. "You should tell Professor Snape," Daphne began, "you did it before Granger."_

" _It's fine, like anyone would believe that anyway."_

" _But it's the truth!"_

" _I know," Pansy answered, dismayed. It had been nice to feel like she had managed something before her peers for once._

Fucking Granger.

* * *

Pansy watched as Draco retrieved several books from the library shelves. "These should do," he grunted. Pansy suppressed a small laugh as she watched him struggle under the weight of the heavy tomes.

"Here," Pansy offered, quickly levitating the pile. "Why the hell do we need so many?"

"Because I'm not sure how this is going to work."

"And what exactly is _this_?"

Draco quickly scanned the vicinity. They were in the Restricted Section which was deserted at the best of times, but Draco clearly wanted to take no chance of being overheard. He bent low, his mouth level with Pansy's right ear before whispering, "We're going to perfect nonverbally being able to make someone scream their fucking head off."

"We're...what?" It took a long second before realisation washed over her. "They'll think we can _Crucio_ nonverbal!"

"Exactly."

"Draco, that's brilliant," Pansy said, truthfully.

"Brilliant happens to be my speciality, didn't you know?"

Vacating the library and returning to their rooms, both Pansy and Draco expressed small, smug smiles as they sat in their usual spaces before summoning Winky for some refreshments, and set to work putting their newest plan into motion.


	18. SomethingReal

Part One | Strike the Match

Eighteen. _Something...Real_

* * *

"Well, well, well. Someone is _very_ dressed up for a simple patrol."

"Get out of my room," Pansy snapped at the smug reflection currently standing in her door frame.

"She _needs_ to be dressed up!" an excited voice piped up from atop Pansy's bed. Daphne was presently lounging against two propped-up pillows, her hand outstretched resting on a third, where Winky was currently painting the blonde's fingernails.

"Daphne, shut up," Pansy retorted, this time directing her scowl towards the reflection of the beautiful blonde.

"I don't think that's true," Draco began, choosing to ignore Pansy completely. His attention entirely directed towards Daphne, he strode over to the bed and plonked himself down next to the witch. Leaning backwards, Draco propped himself up on his elbows. "Let's face it, Longbottom is probably just grateful someone has shown him any interest. She could probably show up wearing a burlap sack and he'd still want to fuck her."

 _You're such a mean arsehole._

"Well yes, I know that, but it's more the confidence boost for her, you know?"

 _I am here!_

Pansy sighed, an exaggerated eye roll crossing her face as she went back to putting on her make up. Inwardly, she could scarcely deny to herself that she had a sense of excitement, even though she had no way to know how Neville himself was viewing their nightly duties that evening, but Pansy couldn't help but feel as though she was heading out on some kind of, dare she even think the word...date. This was absurd, of course. The threat the Carrows' posed was as great as ever, yet Pansy knew now that there wasn't much use in denying the way the two felt about each other. Considering she seemed unable to stop her emotions getting the better of her, having now exploded at the Gryffindor twice; once, ending with her sobbing into his chest, and almost kissing him twice. The majority of the student body kept her at a definite distance, far more so than ever before, and the Carrows' themselves even seemed to hold her in a strange sort of respectful demeanour. It turned out that Neville was, at present, the only person Pansy was unable to keep her mask in place for. The fear of what would happen if they were to be found out still gripped at Pansy, escalating her anxiety through the roof at the thought, and so she opted, whenever she could, to simply not think of it...or so she tried, anyway.

Draco was primarily interested in draining as much firewhisky as he could get his pale hands on. Occlumency practise after Occlumency practise, and perfecting the nonverbal screaming spell they'd ended up having to basically _invent_ themselves kept her quite busy. Daphne was still Pansy's best friend, but between separate lessons, Pansy's Head Girl duties, and Draco's methodically planned extra work, they didn't seem to see each other often. Not to mention the fact the majority of Daphne's time was spent in the company of Blaise Zabini, and Pansy couldn't blame her for that, and in fact could hardly blame _herself_ for wishing to spend some alone time with the one person who was actually responsible for a high percentage of the small amount of smiles that had escaped her recently.

The Herbology lesson that had followed their impromptu liaison in the storage room, and subsequently all Herbology lessons since, had made Pansy feel a very prominent _something_ in the pit of her stomach. This was only amplified by the fleeting moments that Neville sneakily brushed his hand against Pansy's arm purposefully when he passed her, and the way he intently, yet briefly, stared deep into her eyes, when all other eyes in the greenhouse were focussed elsewhere.

In the other classes they shared, Neville acted no different towards her than he had any other year, with a stark indifference. Neither acted as though the other existed and slowly, over time, Herbology became a sort of haven for the two of them, where the small ghosts of smiles were welcomed and their shared looks weren't full of a false disregard.

"Pans, do your undies match?" Daphne asked, as nonchalantly as though she was enquiring about the weather, forcing Pansy's thought back to the present. Turning to face to bed, Pansy found herself first watching Draco, who had exploded in a fit of laughter at Daphne's question.

"Daphne!" Pansy cried, half in amusement, half in shock. She picked up a small purse and threw it at the blonde's head, eliciting a squeal from Daphne as she dodged its' path.

"What?!"

"I've missed you, blondie," Draco told her between laughs. He lied down completely, further back into the bed, his hands meeting beneath his blonde head. "This year is utter shit," he stated, simply.

"Agreed. And I've missed you too, Draco Malfoy!" She laughed before the three friends settled into a comfortable five minute, reminiscent silence.

"Where's Millie?" Pansy heard Draco ask.

"Oh, she and Theo had to," she raised her hands to the side of her head and air quoted the next word, "study."

"That's what all the kids are calling it these days, or so I hear," Draco snorted.

"I know, it's quite cute though, they were holding hands yesterday. But, seriously Pans, do your undies match?"

* * *

Pansy emerged from the Head Dorm a short while later. Daphne had vacated not long before, and Pansy had spent the remaining time with Draco. He had offered nothing but a few shots of whisky to help with Pansy's slight nerves, which she was relieved to realise were minimal in comparison to her mounting excitement.

She clip-clopped down the corridor; her heels were high and her skirt was short, though not _too short_ ; Daphne having pointed out that _too short_ might scare Longbottom more than anything else.

The castle was primarily deserted, most students no longer opting to stay out any later than dinner anymore. Pansy met not a single soul as she moved quickly through the familiar halls. She spotted the top of the Grand Staircase upon turning a first floor corner, and felt her stomach clench as she approached the steps and the Entrance Hall. They were always the unofficial meeting point for whatever two Prefects were on patrol duty together and as she was finally able to look down the stairs, an awaiting Neville Longbottom appeared in her line of sight. Pansy hoped she didn't imagine the sharp intake of breath she was sure she saw him take as she descended the staircase.

He was wearing a fitted, deep gray long sleeved top and well fitting slim jeans and she unashamedly looked him up and down, which earned her an eyeroll and the same treatment back, finding herself rather enjoying the way his eyes lingered on her bare legs.

"What did I guess correctly that you liked; the day we went to the greenhouse?" he asked, oddly.

"What?" Pansy answered, wholly taken aback. "Autumn days, but...what the hell?"

"Just had to check," Neville laughed at her confusion. "You look like a dream. I had to check it was really you. Dark times, you know."

Pansy shot him a sideways smile. "I also called you a creep then, you remember?"

"I do, but then you also admitted you have no problem with my creeping."

"You're getting far too cocky, Longbottom."

"Where to, Head Girl?" he asked, ignoring her previous statement and perfectly raising one eyebrow.

 _My bed._ "We can start with this floor. Once we're back here, we'll do the dungeons. Then go up the West stairs and do each floor from there." _Also my bed._

Neville nodded slowly, "Lead the way."

"You're just saying that so you can check out my arse." A firewhisky-induced confidence was seeping over her as she began to sashay towards a nearby corridor. She heard Neville chuckle darkly behind her, though he made no effort to deny her statement.

The ground floor proved entirely empty. Most students were generally too fearful to wander around after dark now, after the first few instances of the Carrows catching those students out of bed resulted in a bout of the Cruciatus Curse. Prefect patrols were generally incredibly easy, and this suited Pansy and Neville fine, because it truly meant that for the first time since the library, they could actually talk.

"...seriously, it's faded a bit now, but it's actually bright fucking green." Pansy snorted, narrowing her eyes at a laughing Neville, who was insistent that Pansy un-glamour her black hair. "You'll have to get me drunk. That's how Daphne persuaded me to let her do it in the first place, though she didn't tell me she was doing it green, mind."

"Amazing, I can't believe I'm even thinking this, but Slytherins actually sound fun."

"Come to the dark side Longbottom," Pansy said, lowering her voice considerably, before adding, "we have whisky." She elongated the _s_ in whisky into a hiss.

"I think I'm already halfway there."

"Lucky you," Pansy brightly winked at her companion.

"I'm definitely not complaining," Neville answered, and Pansy felt her cheeks warm slightly as she tried, and failed, to suppress an embarrassingly wide smile at his words.

"Tell me more," Neville said, as they approached the entrance to the dungeons.

Pansy deliberated. "What do you want to know?"

"Anything, everything."

"Well that narrows it down," Pansy snorted.

"Something...real." He was no longer laughing.

"Okay, look you were really honest with me, and I feel I sort of owe you that back, if that makes sense?"

"Sure."

"My childhood, it...wasn't great." Pansy took a deep breath as they began to navigate the corridors that lead to the Slytherin common room. Strangely enough even these were deserted. "My mum, she, sort of...hated me, still does."

"Hated you?"

Pansy shot him a glance, seeing the concern on his face illuminated in the dungeon torchlight. They made their way to the end of the corridor, nearing the West staircase, before Pansy began to speak again. "I'm pretty sure, yeah. If not she has a fucked up way of showing love. She...got angry...a lot. My dad wasn't around very much and so when she was pissed off, there was no one else for her to take it out on, I guess."

Pansy heard Neville swallow as he processed her words. She no longer felt the effects of the firewhisky as a familiar sadness washed over her, a sadness she was usually capable of burying without much effort. It had proved more difficult recently, however...

 _Stupid Draco, and his stupid Occlumency._

"Pansy, I shouldn't have asked. The last thing I wanted was for you to get upset. I've been...looking forward to this all day," he confessed.

They paused before beginning the climb up the West staircase, and Pansy turned to face him. "You don't have to be sorry, I chose to bring that up. I...I actually wanted to tell you, ever since you...ever since the library. I wanted you to know that I understand a...a little, about having a shit childhood at least."

Her face burned with a mixture of emotions Pansy didn't want to face.

Neville nodded. "I really appreciate you telling me," he said and she felt his hand on her arm, giving it an encouraging squeeze as he looked into her eyes. His hand left her arm and he opened them, widespread, before mumbling, "Come here."

And she did.

"I don't know what you do to me, Longbottom," Pansy said, her voice muffled against Neville's chest. "I'm a massive bitch remember, I don't _do_ hugs," she said, relishing once more in the safety she felt contained within his arms.

"Even massive bitches need hugs, Pansy," his voice was full of mock seriousness.

"You're hilarious."

"I try. C'mon, let's go upstairs, I hate the dungeons," Neville said, and Pansy reluctantly stepped away from his hold of her.

"Aww, but I feel so at home down here," Pansy moaned as she alighted the stairs after him.

"I know, but at least you get to check out my arse this time, Parkinson."

"Well look at that, so I do," Pansy responded, not quite brave enough to admit, despite their flirty comradery, that she had, in fact, been checking out his arse from the moment he turned around.

* * *

The remainder of their patrol passed in a similar fashion, full of shared fears and stories, anecdotes and dreams. Pansy could scarcely remember a time she'd shared so much at once with anyone.

"...in hiding, I think. Nobody really knows anything," Neville was relaying. The pair were sitting in a small alcove, tucked away on the fifth floor, having decided to simply not bother with the rest of their duties. Neither particularly cared if anyone was out of bed. It seemed incredibly unlikely considering the deserted state of the parts of the castle they'd already walked through.

"I wish I could go into hiding," Pansy confessed, surprising even herself at her words, yet knowing they were the truth. She wondered fleetingly whether she should add, ' _...with you.'_

Neville nodded. "It would certainly beat getting crucio'd every damn week."

Pansy swallowed. "I'm sorry you have to go through that, it must be hard…" she trailed off, knowing he wouldn't need her to spell her true sentiments out to him.

He paused, before looking around to meet her eyes. "It's not easy," he admitted. "Knowing it's the last thing they felt, before…" Pansy nodded slightly at his words, her eyes filling with tears at his confession.

"It is a little bit more bearable...knowing that you put shields up for me."

"It's not much, I know," Pansy said with a sigh. She deliberated with herself every week, after she learnt the truth of his personal history with the curse that was being inflicted upon him week in, week out. Much like the first Muggle Studies lesson, Pansy had found herself unable to do nothing and so had taken to casting weak, nonverbal shield charms around Neville. She couldn't allow a full shield, as this would repel the curse, but she knew it made it slightly easier for him to take the torture. "Any more and she'd know, I just wish I could-"

"Pansy, are you serious? The fact that you're willing to put so much on the line, to help me just that little bit, to make it a little better. You don't know what that means, I can't tell you how grateful I am."

She smiled up at him. His face, which she had began to see as rather physically appealing from the minute he entered the carriage on the train, now had a whole new effect on her. She still marvelled at how good looking he had become, of course, but now there was more; a perfected rigidity to his jaw, and a deep sorrow in his eyes that she was certain, or perhaps she merely hoped that, nobody else could see. There was real pain and sadness in Neville Longbottom and knowing, and seeing that, broke Pansy's heart almost every day. And yet, despite the hurt, she knew there was also hope, and light. She saw it in Herbology, in the ambition present in his eyes when Professor Sprout engaged him, and when Professor Flitwick commended his impressive spellwork. His Gryffindor fire was sometimes so close to the surface, she half expected his eyes to burn a deep red.

Their peers no longer regarded him in the way they once did, with mockery and pity. His abilities as a wizard had increased tenfold and his blatant defiance in the face of the Carrows' proved he was no longer one to be trifled with. In fact, Pansy highly doubted whether Neville Longbottom would ever give anyone reason to truly make fun of him again.

Pansy smiled at his words, but said nothing. Instead, she let her head fall to the side, feeling comfortable enough, yet still nervous at first, to rest her head on his shoulder. She felt him altogether stiffen at her advance before his whole body relaxed entirely, and she felt his head flop to the side, to rest atop hers. She felt his hand reach to hers, grasping it in his own as their fingers interlaced. _Well, staying away from him has gone just swimmingly._

And there they sat, in the most comfortable silence they had shared yet. For an amount of unknown time that felt long, and over too soon all at once, Pansy felt Neville's head leave its position against hers, only to feel his lips press into her forehead. It was brief, chaste and not nearly enough. The pang she felt as he pulled away tugged a part of her deep inside that Neville had awoken, and thankfully, it seemed he had no intention of leaving it at the one quick kiss.

He planted an identical, fleeting brush of his lips further down her forehead, and this time Neville barely pulled away before planting a third kiss on her cheek. He simultaneously swiveled his body so he was facing her, giving him easier access to kiss her a fourth time; this time his mouth meeting the line of her jaw, to which Pansy, who was wondering if it was possible for her to actually explode with anticipation and want, and happiness. She heard herself emit the smallest of groans somewhere deep in her throat and gently threw her head backwards, which was met almost instantaneously by a strong hand that began to run its fingers through her long, black locks, massaging the back of her head. His mouth continued his trail of kisses along her jaw, at last softly grazing the very side of her mouth until she felt his hand tighten slightly on the back of her head. His grip guided her head smoothly so that her mouth finally, after weeks of wanting it, _needing_ it, and unsuccessfully attempting to ignore it, and finally, she succumbed, pulling her body round so her torso met his. She threw her arms around his neck as she mimicked the movements that his hand had been doing through her hair, through his own as she bristled with desire. His other arm had wrapped around her waist, pulling her into him, his grip so tight she wondered if he thought she was going to pull away. _Not a chance._

The kiss itself was easily the most passionate contact Pansy had experienced. Neville had started slowly, pressing his lips against hers gently, the light sensations tantalising and teasing until she insisted on more; more heat, more movement, which Neville was all too happy to oblige. His tongue eagerly met hers as she pulled his head as close to hers as she could, as he did the same to hers.

It was all at once intense, terrifying, romantic, and erotic. It was everything Pansy had hoped it could be, and a hundred times more of everything. Neville had lit a fire in Pansy she hadn't known existed and she craved to burn with him. All that she knew in that moment was that despite everything that _should_ keep them apart, they were a perfect match, _perfect_ somehow.

It may have been one minute, or fifty. Pansy had no knowledge of time passing. What she did know, when they finally broke apart, gasping for air, that it was not nearly enough. Thankfully, Neville seemed to have the exact same idea, pausing a second solely to stare into her eyes, where he seemed to tell her a thousand, unspoken truths. He linked his fingers with hers once more, and stood up, pulling her with him. Pansy swallowed, biting her bottom lip as she waited, still panting and desperate for more.

In one swift movement he pulled her into him, catching her face with his free hand and ran the pad of his thumb down her cheek. Planting one, agonisingly brief kiss on her lips before Pansy squealed in surprise upon feeling her back meet roughly with the cold stone of a nearby wall. Her face broke into a mischievous smile as she tugged on his hand. He left no time in following her unsaid command. Pansy sighed, as her arms found their way around his neck once more. Her hands resting through his short hair as his own hands pressed on either side of her face as his lips finally met hers once more.


	19. Trust a Gryffindor

.

Part One | Strike the Match

Nineteen. _Trust a Gryffindor..._

* * *

Pansy had felt a fair few regrets in her lifetime, but as she entered the head quarters later that evening, she was fairly certain, that the ending of the kisses she'd shared with Neville, despite the fact they'd done so for almost _two hours,_ was high up on the list.

As the door closed behind her, she let out a sigh; full of equal parts yearning and fulfillment. She felt the side of her body thump against the nearby wall, and realised that she'd unintentionally flopped herself against it, as her brain attempted to recall every detail of the patrol she'd just finished.

 _Best. Patrol. Ever._ Her head was still spinning from the realisation, Longbottom had kissed her. _Really_ kissed her. _No,_ pansy thought, even that wasn't apt enough a description. He'd set her on _fire_. _Trust a Gryffindor to do that._

They'd stayed, pressed into the wall and each other, melded together in such a perfect partnership that Pansy could barely remember _anything_ feeling more right; which was a slight oddity in itself, when everything considered, Neville was really, in fact, entirely _wrong_ for her.

The clearing of a throat forced Pansy back into the present, wrenching her mind unceremoniously from the memory of the way Neville had kissed her.

"I thought you would have gone to bed," Pansy said aloud, wondering whether to call Winky for some food, or simply collapse onto her own cosy bed, and engulf herself with every tiny triviality of the last few hours. Her body made the decision for her really, emitting a low growl of hunger, and Pansy realised she hadn't actually eaten any dinner, opting instead to begin getting ready for the patrol. _Clearly that was the right decision,_ Pansy smirked to herself, walking towards the sofa as she deliberated what she would like the elf to fetch her to eat. Slumping herself down onto the sofa, she turned her head to face the familiar pale face of Draco, who merely shrugged in response to her earlier spoken thought.

"Do you want some food?" Pansy asked, making herself really _look_ at Draco for the first time in a few days. He had been getting visibly thinner since they arrived back at school, that much was obvious, but Pansy realised she'd been so caught up in the complicated emotional, risky web that was she and Longbottom, she had failed to really notice Draco's appearance. Which, she was fairly certain that during the day was less obvious, but here, where their only light was wall-mounted candles that graced the edges of all their rooms, Draco no longer looked skinny. She watched the shadows of the flames dance their way across the wizard's face, and realised that Draco looked ill, gaunt, and borderline malnourished.

He began to shake his head, raising his trademark whisky tumbler as he did. The action jolted Pansy's attention from the face of her friend, one of the people she cared most about in the world, and felt a strong surge of anger towards him. She didn't bother asking how much he'd drank tonight, knowing he'd just follow her question with another shrug. Instead, Pansy took matters into her own hands. If the evening she'd just had were to teach her anything was that Draco was, in fact, right. Pansy knew now that the happiness she _could_ have, despite the odds against them all, was worth fighting for. And she also knew that it wasn't solely Neville that she needed to be responsible for her happiness. It was Daphne, Blaise, Millicent and Theo, and her rock - the one she trusted more than anyone in the world and the one who knew her inside out, _that_ one was an integral part to any happiness she may be lucky enough to get. And _that one_ was no use to her as a permanently drunk skeleton.

Pansy thought a very clear and precise, _Accio glass,_ and failed to keep the smirk from her face as the tumbler flew from a surprised Draco's grasp as forcefully as if Pansy had spoken the spell out loud. Her nonverbal skills were becoming stronger and stronger, something Pansy was immensely proud of.

"What the-? Give tha' back!"

"No," Pansy said simply, before standing and striding defiantly towards the doorway that led to the rest of their quarters, hearing Draco mumble something to himself, grumpily. She reached the kitchen area and retrieved a mug from one of the cupboards, choosing the least old and chipped looking amongst the pitiful collection.

Calling for Winky, Pansy magically filled the mug with water, before making her way back to Draco, thrusting the mug into the hand she'd taken his glass from, still outstretched as though expecting her to gift him the alcohol back. _No such luck._

"What the fuck is this?" Draco began, his words barely separate with his usual slur, but did not say anything further as Winky took that moment to appear, her large eyes blinking up to Pansy, then over at Draco's annoyed scowl.

"Ah, Winky would you sort us a hot meal please? I know it's late…" Pansy trailed off, suddenly feeling incredibly guilty she hadn't considered the late hour before calling the small elf to her service.

Winky however, had looked remarkably cheery at Pansy's request. "Of course, Miss," she squeaked, dropping her head into a slight bow, before disappearing Pansy was sure she heard the elf say, "Miss has worked up quite an appetite, obviously," before disappearing as quickly as she had arrived.

"I don' want a hot meal, Pans."

"Tough."

"Wha' do you mean, _tough_?" He was clearly abashed, even in his drunken state.

"I mean exactly that, you're _going_ to eat a decent dinner Draco, before you disappear."

Draco scoffed, but thankfully didn't argue, which would have been altogether difficult considering his stomach had began to rumble the minute Winky had vanished.

"Drink your water," Pansy demanded, trying, and most likely failing, to sound kinder than she felt, which was primarily anger at Draco for not looking after himself, and also at herself, for not realising he needed her to do it for him sooner.

He glared at her, but obliged, downing the liquid in one. He glanced at her, before saying, "Oh, an owl came with a letter for you, it's over there." He pointed in the direction of the large desk which stood against the opposite wall from the couch.

Pansy paused before summoning the parchment, her breathing suddenly ragged as it flew into her waiting hand. She heard Draco say from her side something along the lines of _everything being okay_ , but Pansy knew it wasn't. There was only one person she was expecting mail from. The same person who she'd found out, only a few weeks ago, had been directly involved in the torture and eventual permanent hospitalisation of the parents of the boy she'd spent all night with, who had laughed with, shared her secrets with, and who had kissed her with his everything.

 _End of Part One..._


	20. I'm Here

Part Two | Pain & Fire

Twenty. _I'm Here_

* * *

 _Eight weeks, one day, and seventeen hours._

 _Eight weeks, one day, and seventeen hours._

 _Eight weeks, one day, and seventeen hours._

It wasn't exactly imminent, per se, she internally deliberated, but it was far, far sooner than she would have liked; eight weeks, one day, and seventeen hours too soon, to be exact.

 _No!_ "No!" Pansy cried, aloud this time to no one in particular. Her eyes drifted over the untidy scribble of words strewn across the parchment she was holding. The shaking of her hands, coupled with the pools of tears that had collected in the direct window of her sight had made reading significantly trickier. Not that it mattered, the note's image was now etched, possibly forever, within her brain,. Her eyes closed and her tears fell, burning into her mind's eye.

 _Pansy,_

 _I checked with Sev, he says your Christmas holiday starts December the 19th. We are busy around that time but I have some free time on the afternoon of the 21st - around 4. It would please me to see you then - I will have the whole night free._

 _Rab_

Pansy shuddered and flinched when a pair of strong hands gripped her upper arms. Her mind immediately drifted to the face of Rabastan Lestrange at the touch, and she saw, with a gasp, the cold, dark eyes that he used to leer at her so brazenly.

In an instant, she needed to free herself from his tightening grasp, and his cries of _Pansy, Pansy, Pansy._ She hated the way he spoke her name, and more so now, knowing it was the same voice used to torture all those years ago, the same voice that continued to torture, to kill, to do Voldemort's bidding now. And so she fought, and she struggled, clawing at every inch of him she could reach, until finally she was able to sink her teeth into what she could only presume was a shoulder. He let her go with a howl, and a sharp _What the absolute fuck, Pansy!?_ that was so decidedly un-Rabastan-like, that Pansy stopped, a swift moment of realisation washing over her; it _was_ un-Rabastan-like, because Rabastan wasn't there. The one who _was_ there, however... _Oh, no!_

Her eyes snapped open and a strange, somewhat distorted view met her eyes. It took a moment for Pansy to acknowledge that that her living room hadn't suddenly tipped sideways, and that she had, at some point unbeknownst to her, fallen over. Draco, it seemed, had gone down with, or maybe _because of,_ her..

He was sitting slightly across from her current position, cradling his right arm in his left, and a look plastered across his pale face that made Pansy gulp.

"You fucking bit me!"

Pansy didn't respond immediately, instead remaining entirely still as she blinked at Draco's furious expression. She _had_ bitten him, _why on earth had she bitten him?_ She had very little answer or defense of it; the grey eyes that were growing narrower by the second, however, were demanding she give them just that. Pansy swallowed as her gaze dropped to the floor.

"I thought you were him," she said, her voice small.

"Lestrange?" Draco answered, clearly stunned, but his voice was already softer, calmer than it was a moment ago.

Pansy nodded sheepishly, her cheeks flooding with the warmth of her embarrassment. She examined the carpet, unwilling to look at him, and began wringing her hands together; a childhood habit that had followed and found her in all the moments she felt most embarrassed or stung.

Draco didn't speak, and remained in his position on the floor. It was only when Pansy finally found it within herself to look up at him, did he move. The wizard crawled awkwardly to her, not breaking their collective stare until he was near enough to touch her. Shifting positions so he was on his feet at a crouch, Draco opened his arms wide, a small, comforting twitch pulling at the left corner of his mouth.

"Come here."

His embrace was, as always, firm yet soft, and in many ways felt like home. He guided them upright as he held her, murmuring soft affirmations in her ear. "You're safe," she heard him whisper. "I'm here, it's just me, it's just Draco."

"I'm sorry I bit you," Pansy muttered, her voice obscured as she fought back the tears that threatened to spill once more. A clink of crockery drew both of their attentions.

"Miss Pansy! It is most definitely not appropriate to bite Master Draco, especially after spending the evening with your mate," Winky stated, her voice firm, yet matter-of-fact, as though scolding humans for biting one another was an everyday occurrence for a House Elf.

"Oh, Merlin. No, Winky, not like that, don't worry," Pansy mumbled, breaking she and Draco's hug and moving towards the couch, eyes focussed entirely on the tray of food Winky was carrying and refusing to look at the elf.

Setting a tray of a variety of dishes on the coffee table, Winky it appeared, had not finished accosting Pansy. "Lovely boy, that one, Miss Pansy. You will want to keep that one, he treats House Elves very well. Dobby agrees, you see, Miss Pansy. Dobby tells me all about the boy, and I know that he _certainly,_ " her large eyes now swivelling towards Draco, "would never pick us up by our ears."

"That was one time, Winky!"

* * *

Neither spoke in the time it took them to eat the multitude of dishes that Winky had brought. Realistically, there would have been enough to feed around four grown adults, however, due to the ravishing hunger both Pansy and Draco had felt, the plates were cleared in their entirety.

Pansy sat back, her head coming to rest against the soft cushion of the sofa. Her limbs were tingling with the tiredness that was suddenly filling her body, only increasing as the large, warm meal settled in her stomach. Looking over at Draco, she realised he had been watching her silently, with an unreadable nonchalant expression, his steely eyes looking calm as they regarded her.

"You okay?" he asked, when she hadn't spoke.

"I really don't know," Pansy replied, with as much honesty as her heart allowed her to muster.

Draco nodded in response, but didn't speak right away. He continued to watch her quietly, although Pansy would have bet a lot of gold that beneath the surface of his silvery blond head, his thoughts were racing, and busy, saying a thousand things he wasn't prepared to say out loud.

"What are you thinking about?" Pansy asked, finally, unable to bear the silence any longer.

Draco did not immediately respond, choosing to remain in the exasperating silence for a few minutes longer, before sighing. Pansy noticed his brow taking on its characteristic furrow, something that despite its often association with bad news, was so unbelievably _Draco-esque_ , that the rush of familiarity she felt upon seeing it was a strange sort of comfort.

"I need you to know, Pans, that whatever it takes, I'll do my best to keep you safe... get you out of this, _here,_ if I need to," he said, his voice rushed but remained steady.

" _Out_ of here? I can't get _out of here,_ where would I go? And I couldn't leave you here, dealing with it all on your own," Pansy answered. A wave of panic had washed over her at his words, how, _or where,_ could she go?

"It doesn't matter, we don't need to worry about it quite yet, but I just need you to know that, okay?"

It was Pansy's turn to not answer straight away. She looked at his pale, skinny face; he looked positively awful. Pansy swallowed hard, her green eyes looking deep into his grey, and with a rush of relief she hadn't even known she realised that the gaunt sallowness that had taken over Draco's features did not appear to have taken the thunderstorm-like energy that lay in his eyes.

 _He's still there._

"Okay."

"So, no grotesque details please, that would be a lot of food to have to throw up, how was the patrol?"

Pansy let out a deep breath.

"Tell me you did not just sigh over Neville Longbottom?" Draco interjected, cutting off the words Pansy had yet to speak.

"I _did not_ just sigh over _anybody_ ," Pansy replied, abashed.

"Uh huh, pull the other one, you'll be batting your eyelashes next," Draco said, his eyes rolling so far back Pansy found herself wondering for a split second whether they would end up permanently facing into his brain. _Idiot._

"It was...good," Pansy said, not entirely sure how much she should, or even wanted to tell Draco. It was times like this that Daphne was entirely the superior choice between the two.

"Are you a proper…" he paused, clearly contemplating his wording, " _thing_ now, then?"

Pansy realised all of a sudden that her heart was pounding fast in her ears when faced with the task of answering such a simple question. She was now full of an anxious panic; as though her biggest, most overwhelming fear over Neville had suddenly jumped up and slapped her clean across the face with a dose of unwanted reality.

"I...I think so," she stammered, bringing her right hand up to her mouth, rubbing her middle finger side to side over her bottom lip as she tried to find an appropriate way to word her concerns to Draco. "I just don't...get… Draco, what the hell does he want me for?" she finished, the words tumbling in such a rush, it was as though each was chasing the one in front.

"I know you like to think of yourself as just a massive bitch, and you _are,_ don't get me wrong-"

 _Oh, well thank you very much._

" _-but_ you do have a _few_ redeeming qualities that _could_ be seen as endearing," Draco said, the hint of a smirk now present on his face.

"He's so fucking _good,_ Draco."

"And you aren't?"

"No, not like that. Not like him," Pansy said, her heart heavy. "He fucking cares. I don't care."

"You don't care?"

"Nope."

"So, you made me eat a bloody banquet for nothing?"

"It's not the same, he's… he's…risking so much."

"You don't think you're risking anything?"

"Of course I am!" Pansy snapped, infuriated by the way Draco turned every one of her points on its head. She was Pansy Parkinson, for Merlin's sake, and he was Neville Longbottom, incomparable. "But that doesn't mean that he isn't _doing_ more, does it?" she ended, with a shout.

"You are such a stubborn cow, Pansy, do you know that?" Draco shot back.

"What the fuck is your problem, Draco?!"

"You! You infuriating wench! I just wish _for once_ that you'd realise you aren't any less deserving of happiness than anyone-fucking-else. You'll make up any and every excuse to remain the bloody _Queen Bitch of Slytherin_ , not letting anyone but me, or Daphne, and sometimes not even us, in." Pansy flinched, as though Draco had slapped her. She felt as though all the blood was draining from her head. "Have you seen the way he fucking looks at you? Have you?" Draco demanded.

"I don't-"

"He's falling _in love_ with you, Pansy, you tit!"

"That's ridiculous."

"You're not wrong there, but that doesn't make it any less true, and what's more I can see you feel the same about him. Neither of you are as subtle as you seem to think you are." Draco's arms were flailing in exasperation as he spoke. "Why the hell can you not understand? It _doesn't matter_ who has done more bloody good than the other, because you are _both_ good. It's not a competition. _What_ he sees in you, and you see in him isn't important!"

Pansy's eyes were narrowed, she daren't admit that Draco could possibly be right. Instead doing what she did best, she countered the point he'd made she was most annoyed about. "I am _not_ falling-"

"Don't you fucking dare deny it!"

Pansy let out a humf of annoyance. "I hate you."

"No, you hate that I can see you through like a fucking window."

"I'm going to bed," Pansy replied, haughtily, standing.

"Enjoy dreaming about Longbottom," Draco replied, considerably calmer, a small smirk upon his face once more.

"I will!" Pansy cried, before stomping to the door and alighting the stairs.

* * *

Pansy awoke the next morning with a jolt. The clock on her bedside table showed it was just twenty-five to seven, which, considering it was a Saturday, was certainly not optimal. Her slumber had been fitful at best, and Pansy stared at the ceiling, reliving an array of dreams. None of them made sense, but all of them, she was fairly certain, were fuelled by the thought of one of two people. One light and one dark. One everything she wanted, and one she wanted nothing to do with. One, who had managed, the previous night, to make her happier than she remembered, and one, who had achieved, the same night, the exact opposite.

She sighed, stretching her arms above her head as she deliberated both sides to her current situation. As complicated as they were before, both seemed infinitely more complex now, and where the mere memory of Neville's touch was enough to elicit a shiver of goosebumps over her neck; the image of Rabastan's note could warp her elation into an unforgiving panic in a fleeting second.

Pansy walked down the staircase that led to the living room ten minutes later, a cocktail of exhaustion, numbness, and uncertainty swirling through her. It was as though it lingered in the very air she breathed; her own personal brand of metaphoric dark cloud.

Neither Pansy nor Draco had mentioned Rabastan, the note, or the glaring problems that went along with them again the previous evening. Luckily, reliving the last few hours she'd shared with Neville provided enough distraction from the ominous complication for Pansy to somewhat relax. The three large measures of firewhisky she'd allowed him to pour her had probably helped in that department also. She realised with a groan that permitting Draco to resume his consumption of the firewhisky she had initially confiscated upon her arrival back to the head's dorm, had probably been unwise.

The door to the living room was open and Pansy became aware of the presence of a moving _something_ , or rather more apt, a moving _someone_ , inside as she approached the ajar door. The someone in question was somewhat hidden behind the sofa as Pansy entered. The soft flop of a large pair of bunny-esq ears, along with a quiet, shanty-like humming, were the only clues Pansy needed to deduce that Winky was currently in the middle of her early-morning clean.

Not wishing to startle the elf, Pansy cleared her throat as she moved towards the faded couch, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as Winky's gaze swivelled to meet Pansy's pale face.

"Mistress Pansy, Winky was not expecting to see your, or," Winky's head turned to face the staircase, her large eyes narrowing, " _him,_ until much later."

Pansy tried, and failed, to stifle a small giggle. "I wasn't aware House Elves were allowed to talk of the ones they have been instructed to serve in that way, Winky."

Winky did not immediately reply, instead she surveyed Pansy, a look of derision clouded her small face. She smiled, or rather, her mouth twisted into something of a semblance of a smile, her bug-like eyes remained steely, and, Pansy realised, rather cunning. _You'd definitely be a Slytherin_

"Winky will refer to him as such when he begins to heed Winky's advice about his bad habits. Winky knows, you see Miss Pansy," the elf said, walking around the sofa, until she was eventually level to the aptly-listening Pansy, "Winky knows because Winky once almost lost herself behind the bottle, it was a dark time for Winky, Miss."

Pansy swallowed hard at Winky's words; she had certainly never heard of a House Elf succumbing to alcoholism. She could see the effects drinking was having on Draco, and her thoughts momentarily drifted to the permanent dark circles almost always present beneath the eyes of her former lover, and the gaunt, ill look he now had plastered over his pointed features. It was tough, to see one of her friends in the state Draco was in, but it felt worse, harsher somehow, to think of a being as small and frail-looking as a House-Elf, and certainly when it was a House-Elf she'd become more than fond since they'd met, dealing with the difficulty of addiction.

"I had no idea, Winky, but I'm very glad you managed to overcome it," Pansy replied, a pang of pride gripping her heart as she looked into the eyes of the small elf.

"You are kind, Miss Pansy, not many here see it, but I do, and _he_ does too,"

"Draco?"

"Nooo," Winky hissed, her voice low, "the _other_ he, hmmm..."

Pansy bit the inside of her cheek, she hoped, no - she _knew,_ Winky was right, Neville _could_ see the good in her that the rest of the school couldn't, and _wouldn't._ But how could he ever deal with the terrible situation she shared with Rabastan Lestrange, who was part of the very reason that Neville was able to empathise with Pansy's childhood.

"The bad man troubles Mistress," Winky said, sadly, in response to Pansy's silence. For the second time, Pansy didn't answer, instead nodding briefly as a hollow _something_ resided itself in her chest.

"Miss Pansy must not let the bad man take the happiness she shares with the kind boy, the good boy. Miss Pansy must find a way to flee the darkness. Winky sees it, the kind boy has darkness too, he needs Miss Pansy just as she needs him."

"Winky," Pansy began, unable to stop a sob from choking her words as she did. "The bad man is the reason that Neville has darkness," she finished, unable to say anything further as fear and heartache ripped at the very fibre of her being.

Pansy was aware of very little as she cried, but sometime later, she would come to realise a few heartwarming truths that existed in her sea of uncertainty; the small elf who she'd opened her heart to had levitated Pansy's bedclothes downstairs, lay her head down to rest, and refused to leave the sobbing witch until her racked cries finally subsided as the exhaustion she'd fought, ultimately won.


	21. Fit as a Gnat

.

Part One | Strike the Match

Twenty-One. _Fit as a Gnat_

* * *

In the days following both her kiss with Neville, and her correspondence from Rabastan, Pansy found herself unusually busy. She felt mostly thankful, as it kept her mind occupied away from the lingering pangs of fear, or doubt, that crept into her conscious whenever her mind was less than overloaded.

There were, however, times where she'd find herself rushing down a corridor only to find herself passing _him_ , usually standing looking irritatingly _not_ busy, and, if possible, even more good looking. Now that she knew not only what he looked like, but how he _felt,_ and how he tasted, she'd experience a rush of bitterness towards whatever, or whoever, she was rushing off to, or from, usually on some inane errand from one of the Carrows. The two deputies had taken it upon themselves to begin calling for Pansy and Draco to carry out an array of tasks, usually menial, for apparently no reason at all.

It had been after five days of this constant badgering that the pair had faced, that Draco appeared in their living room one evening, his expression thunderous and explained how, after he had thrown a box of potion phials on the floor in a fit of rage, that he must carry the box down seven floors without magic, Alecto had burst into a fit of laughter, and informed him that she and her brother had decided to see how amenable Draco and Pansy were to _a bit of manual Muggle-work_.

"Stupid bitch!" Draco had roared, before promptly blasting a hole in one of the living room's powder blue walls. "Her and her fish-faced fuck of a brother need to take a walk off the Astronomy Tower, right now!"

"There was _no_ purpose to all those things they made us do?"

"Of course there wasn't!" Draco seethed. "Unless, of course, you think that making us look like dicks just for their amusement is a great fucking purpose, otherwise, no."

 _Bastards._ "Bastards."

When they hadn't been doing a number of menial and consequently utterly pointless tasks for the Carrows, Pansy and Draco had spent a lot of their free time practising, until they finally managed to perfect their screaming spell. They essentially had to invent the thing themselves, a sort of take on a Caterwauling charm, which had been relatively straightforward, but still tricky to accomplish.

"Now, we just need to make sure we can cast it nonverbally," Pansy said, wiping a bead of sweat from her left eyelid. "I had no idea screaming took so much physical effort."

"It doesn't, but when you're about as fit as a gnat."

"I'm fitter than a gnat!" Pansy snapped, although the second bead of sweat she could feel making its way down the side of her temple seemed to mockingly say otherwise.

Practising the screaming spell, which needed the word _delorum_ said with an upwards right flick of the wand to work, as well as the continued daily Occlumency, which went on sometimes well past midnight, as well as patrols every few nights, left very little room for Pansy to either stress over Rabastan or stress over Neville; though the latter admittedly was a far more enjoyable source of stress.

Luckily, or perhaps even more excruciatingly, Neville had made sure that even in spite of her lack of free moments, he was never far from her thoughts. Although that would most likely have been the case regardless if Pansy was prepared to be brutally honest with herself, which she rarely was. He had began to send her a number of small notes that he managed to slip either into her bag, or on her person - in a number of imaginative ways - without fail most days.

The first had appeared the very next day after the kiss. It was also the same day she had gotten up, had a bit of a breakdown to Winky, and promptly fallen asleep again on the sofa. That afternoon had seen she and Daphne take a short lived trip into Hogsmeade; once a most popular and looked forward to activity from almost all the students, Hogsmeade weekends had become nothing more than another depressing reality of the world they now resided in. The dementors were _supposed_ to steer clear of the village during all daylight hours, but especially during the weekends of the student visits. However, the soul-sucking creatures still hovered high above, their cloaked, silent, silhouettes drifting ominously overhead.

"Oh, I _hate_ those things," Daphne had said, her head snapping downwards as though she could drive the creatures away just by ceasing to look at them. "Can you do a patronus? Blaise and I have been practising."

"No, I've never actually tried," Pansy said, thoughtfully. "Probably worth learning, I suppose," she finished with a sigh, as though working on the screaming spell, on top of Occlumency, wasn't enough.

"Mine doesn't have an animal shape, yet, but I can get a wispy thing. It's tough," Daphne said, linking her left arm around Pansy's right.

The trip hadn't been a particularly long one. Daphne had needed a new quill, and they'd made a quick stop at Honeydukes, stocking up on a number of sweet treats that might make their lives seem just a touch less depressing.

The pair had debated a quick drink at The Three Broomsticks, but decided against the idea when the owner, Madam Rosmerta, who had been outside to adjust the main sign, had shot Pansy a look of disappointed disdain. _For fuck's sake, when will this end?_

"Maybe not," Daphne hissed, gripping Pansy's arm tighter in her own, forcing the dark haired witch closer to her. The stony camouflage that immediately descended over Pansy's face was not missed by her best friend.

"Oh, Pans, it's okay," Daphne said encouragingly.

Pansy didn't speak until the two had left the village's main street. Not that the place was particularly busy, but there were enough people around to make Pansy uncomfortable speaking openly. So, she waited until the pair were on a deserted part of the lane that separated the school with its neighbouring village.

"The whole world thinks I'm about to become a Death Eater, and everybody else probably thinks I'm already one."

"I know you aren't," Daphne replied, "and so does Millie, and Blaise, Theo, and Draco," she squeezed Pansy's arm as she spoke, "and Longbottom."

Pansy turned her head to look at her best friend, a slight smile creeping on her face despite the sinking feeling that still remained in her gut kindled by Rosmerta's stare. "I have to tell you something."

Daphne didn't speak. Instead, Pansy watched the blonde gasp, a look of excitement misting over her perfect features, her bright blue eyes full of expectation.

"We had a patrol last night," Pansy began.

"You and Longbottom?"

"No, me and Slughorn," Pansy answered, dryly. "Yes, me and Longbottom,"

"And?" Daphne asked, elongating the word.

"We talked for ages, _properly_ talked, you know?"

"Mmhmmm,"

"And then we held hands _while_ talking,"

Daphne let out a soft _eeee_ sound as the grip she held onto Pansy's arm reached painful levels.

"Then, we _might_ have kissed-"

"Yes!"

"For ages-"

"Yes, yes, yes!"

Daphne had spent the entirety of the walk back to Hogwarts plying Pansy for almost every possible detail of she and Neville's conversation, kiss, hand-holding and everything else in between. By the time the pair arrived back at school, Pansy felt well and truly interrogated, and Daphne finally looked satisfied.

"Oh, it's so romantic," Daphne said, dreamy tones washing around her well-spoken voice.

"It's...fucked up," Pansy countered.

They walked back to Pansy's dorm in relative silence. The corridors were mostly empty, many students choosing to not leave the safety of their common rooms for fear of the possibility of bumping into an irate Alecto Carrow.

"Can we get some food?" Daphne asked, and at her words, Pansy realised that she, too, was ravenous.

"Sure, I'll get Winky to sort us something, what are you in the mood for?"

"Oh, anything will do, maybe…"

But, Pansy only heard the beginning half of Daphne's sentence. She had shoved her hands roughly in the pockets of her jeans as they walked into the Head Rooms, and her right hand had enclosed around something, a something she was fairly sure wasn't there earlier today.

Bringing the folded scrap of parchment from her pocket, Pansy frowned. She knew what she wished it to be - or rather who she wished it was from - but it couldn't be, she hadn't seen him, or any of his friends all day.

"What's that?" she heard Daphne query.

"Good question." Pansy unfolded the parchment, her breath in her throat at the utter impossible prospect that somehow, deep inside her, she knew was the truth.

Pansy read the note in a few, short seconds, before passing it to a confused Daphne and uncharacteristically refused to hide the wide smile that had taken up residence on her pale face.

"Oh, you _cannot_ say that this isn't romantic now!" Daphne exclaimed with a squeal. "Oh Pans, he must _really_ like you."

Pansy's thoughts drifted back to the previous night, and a selection of the words exchanged between her and Draco in particular. _He's falling_ in love _with you, Pansy, you tit!_

Daphne passed the note back to Pansy, who read the scribbled, although from what she had seen thus far of Neville's handwriting, somewhat neatly written, note.

 _I wish I could kiss you forever_

The second note didn't appear until two days later. It had been a long Monday full of difficult classes, and an increase in Pansy's feeling of being even more shunned and ignored by the rest of the students. Neville himself hadn't paid her much more attention than usual, though his array of lingering glances burned with a whole new fire now, and with a whole new desire, that rippled between the two of them like their own personal brand of static, magical energy.

Pansy had slumped onto the couch, massaging her right hand against the back of her stiff neck. A transfiguration essay she had yet to start, let alone finish, despite it being due the following day, awaited her, as well as the next month's prefect patrol schedule.

It was the patrol schedule that ended up being the site for the next note to appear, and a quiet, "What the fuck?" escaped Pansy's lips as the small folded parchment fell onto her lap, exactly the same as two days before. _How the hell is he doing this?_

After unfolding the parchment, and reading the words to herself, Pansy let out a breath she wasn't aware she was holding. It seemed to release not just air but all the stress she'd felt only a moment prior, as an elated flutter began to dance in her stomach.

 _I'd be very grateful to be paired with the Head Girl again._

Pansy didn't have to wait as long for the third note, as it appeared the very next morning. Very nearly pouring some cereal on top of the perfectly folded parchment that was situated inside her breakfast bowl. Pansy blinked dazedly at the parchment for a few seconds, before swiftly grabbing it between her fingers and read the words quickly, whilst her Housemates were busying themselves with their own breakfasts.

 _Good morning, beautiful._

The fourth note appeared the next day, in the late afternoon, seemingly by a series of events of chance.

It had been a day where the Carrows' had taken a number of liberties with the menial tasks they had set Pansy, and a day she was fairly sure she would have cursed anyone who chose to look at her in a way that she deemed annoying in any way, shape, or form. Draco had forced her into longer Occlumency practise the night before, and Pansy was feeling particularly crotchety.

The witch whirled around a third floor corridor, absentmindedly daydreaming about which curses she would gain the most pleasure from inflicting on Alecto the most, when she happened to not notice the small group of bodies that were coming around the same corner in the opposite direction.

The collision wasn't as bad as it could have been, but the shock of the impact did make the items she was carrying drop from her arms. "Bugger," Pansy said aloud, to no one in particular, before rounding on the mystery group of students, the other half of her crash.

Pansy only just managed to stop herself from emitting an audible groan as she recognised the scowling look of Ginny Weasley, a confused expression that belonged to the face of Seamus Finnegan, a bemused, absentminded half smile possessed by Loony Lovegood and lastly, Pansy swallowed unable to bring herself to immediately look at the annoyingly amused look upon his face, Neville Longbottom.

The first three students said nothing, clearly not wishing to spend any more time in Pansy's company than necessary. _The feeling is mutual, believe me._ Neville, however, scooped up a couple of books that Pansy had yet to pick up, her hands full with a box of Dark Art paraphernalia that Pansy wished she could have nothing to do with. Neville hastily handed the books back to her, and Pansy didn't notice the brief, yet definite way his eyes met hers, before dropping back to the topmost book and then rising up to her own, once more.

Pansy swallowed, nodding momentarily and set off down the corridor without a second glance as Ginny's audible "You're far too nice for your own good," held her attention. Continuing on her route for a few more corridors and a few more corners, Pansy eventually felt she was far enough away from the three Gryffindors and one Ravenclaw.

She had stopped and perched herself loosely on a large windowsill, her heart thumping fast as she gingerly opened the hardback front cover of the book on the top. The note fell onto her lap, folded just like the others, and Pansy double checked that both ends of the hallway were definitely deserted - whilst trying to keep the smile from pulling at the corners of her mouth - before unfolding the parchment and reading the written, inked words.

 _The way you play with your hair when you're thinking is adorable._

Pansy sighed, the note balled in her fist as she pressed her back into the cold pane of the window and deliberated his words. Pansy Parkinson was not called _adorable_ very often, in fact, it was possibly the last word that _anyone_ would consider when asked to describe the Slytherin. But, Pansy would take it. She'd berate him for it, of course, because to the outside world, and even Neville, Pansy was most definitely _not_ adorable, but she knew she'd keep the note forever, as a constant reminder that somehow, in the bleak obscurity of the world they now lived in, _someone_ thought that Pansy was adorable, and she knew that her sanity would depend, at one point or another, on her holding onto that knowledge.

The fifth note was arguably the hardest to conceal, primarily due the comical way in which it was presented to her. Six individual, miniscule pieces of parchment found their way to her at various points of her Herbology lesson, in no discernible order. The first, after Pansy had gotten used to the notes that featured full sentences, had a rather disappointing _to_ written on it. The next had a solitary _I,_ and the next said _again._ Pansy refused to look at Neville, busying herself with the repotting of her assigned plants, scribbling notes as she went. She could _feel_ his smile as he sneakily watched her receive, read, and promptly put away each one of the one-word notes. The following three pieces had _need, you, and kiss,_ scrawled across them, respectively.

Pansy finished up the task she was working on, and after checking she was definitely not being watched - with the sly exception of Neville's frequent glances - Pansy pulled her book close to her chest, and arranged the notes atop a random page.

 _I need to kiss you again._

Pansy breathed deeply, the urge to put Neville, and coincidentally her, out of his misery, was so strong she could practically _feel_ his body pressed into hers. She decided to do something she had so far refrained from, despite the temptation, and wrote Neville a hasty note back.

* * *

The next day, after Draco had confirmed that the ridiculous tasks she'd been breaking her back to do all week for the Carrows had been for nothing, Pansy was feeling particularly antsy. She had finally finished up December's prefect schedule, and was sitting impatiently, waiting.

"What do you keep checking the clock for? Expecting someone?" Draco asked, one of his brows raised.

"Not exactly," Pansy answered, her eyes drifting pointlessly to the timepiece on the wall. The face showed it hadn't even been one minute since the last time she'd snuck a glance.

"Well, I'm going to assume you aren't expecting a delivery. You going somewhere... to see someone, perhaps?"

"Maybe," Pansy murmured, annoyed at Draco's typical ability to decipher a situation so quickly.

"And, no prizes for guessing _who_ that might be, I presume."

Glancing at the clock again, Pansy internally cursed her own lack of patience. "Jealousy doesn't suit you, Draco."

"You know, as long as the pair of you can control any wandering hands, you can bring him here. I don't mind, mainly because I'm _not_ jealous."

"You'd be okay with that?" Pansy asked, surprised. It was one thing for Draco to be supportive, and to even be almost friendly with Longbottom on the odd occasion, but she knew it was another one entirely to be in the company of your ex-girlfriend, and her new whatever the hell Neville was to her. She wasn't entirely sure how exactly she would feel, were the situation reversed, and she regarded her friend with an air of respect. .

"Of course," Draco said, sounding sincere.

"I might."

"But I swear to Merlin, if you fuck him in my chair, I'll hex his dick off."

"Duly noted."

* * *

An hour and a half later, Pansy found herself walking quietly through the halls of Hogwarts swiftly, and without faltering. It would most likely be unpleasant, even for Pansy, to have to run into Amycus, or Alecto, at this time of night.

Luckily, the path she walked was entirely clear of others, and she reached her destination quickly, and without incident.

The door to the empty classroom was closed, and silent, as she approached, and after one quick, further look to each side, she opened it and slipped inside. Her eyes took a second to adjust to the almost darkness, which was pitch black except for the _lumos_ light of a solitary wand. In the wandlight she could make out a tall, familiar figure, who Pansy, after casting a swift locking charm on the door, marched straight towards, her desire to reach him holding no bounds by this point.

"You made it, I was star-," Neville began.

"Shut up, Longbottom," Pansy's voice was breathless as she threw herself against his firm chest, and her mind solely focussed on one, ever intensifying desire as her arms snaking around his neck as her lips and her world collided with his once more.


	22. This One was a Thunderstorm

.

Part Two | Pain & Fire

Twenty-Two. _This One was a Thunderstorm_

* * *

He tasted like apple pie, smelled like autumn days, and felt like heaven. The firm tenderness of his hands moved first over her back before scrunching their way through her hair and stroking their way down her neck to caress the side of her jaw. He ran his fingertips down the full length of her back, finally anchoring his palms at either side of her waist, forcing her even closer against him with a demanding, yet delicate grip.

Her own movements complimented his instantaneously. Her arms were already around his neck, but she locked them fully keeping him bound to her in an iron clad clinch, whilst allowing her midriff to be pulled into him even tighter.

It wasn't like the first time they had kissed; there was no tentative build-up, no moments of wondering _when_ and _if,_ there was simply an unexplainable, urgent need for her body to be against his, and for his mouth to be moving in time with hers. If their first kiss had been the gloriously warm, dreamlike haze that appeared in the height of summer, this one was the thunderstorm you watched with a thrill in the dead of the night - untamed and with an earthly rawness that encompassed absolutely everything in that moment.

Pansy became scarcely aware that Neville was shifting them. Whirling her to the right, he moved and positioned her with ease until she felt the edge of what she assumed was a table against the backs of her thighs, prompting her, for the first time, to somewhat reluctantly pull away from their kiss. Throwing her head backwards, Pansy placed her hands firmly, palms down, on the table and with a sly grin, quickly hopped up, her backside landing gently on the surface.

Widening the gap in her thighs so that the fabric of her skirt was stretched taut, Pansy placed both of her hands on either side of Neville's waist and guided him gently to make the two small steps it took for him to be, once again, at an optimal closeness to her. This time, she thought happily, as she wrapped her legs around the back of Neville's thighs, caging the Gryffindor to her, they were even more conveniently positioned.

Taking advantage of the new level of intimate proximity in which they were now positioned, Pansy and Neville both raised, and lowered, their heads to the others', respectively. Pansy's hands were comfortably placed around Neville's back, slightly up from his waist, and just a moment before their lips met once more, Neville's left hand connected with the back of Pansy's head, just above her neck. She felt him ball a handful of her hair in his fist, which he used to effortlessly guide her head towards his. His other hand landed on the side of her waist, the pad of his thumb gently tracing small circles over her shirt. His fingers dug in slightly, just enough for Pansy to be conscious of their presence, but not enough to cause pain, _not that I'd have minded,_ she thought, grinning internally at her lustful want.

This kiss became a touch more reminiscent of their first, which was mostly down to Neville. Pansy was intent on losing herself in the same passionate thunderstorm as before, but Neville, apparently had other ideas. Whereas she would have forcefully crashed their lips together once more, Neville hesitated; using his grip on her hair to steady her head, he forced her to wait, mouth poised mere millimetres from hers, so close her bottom lip tickled slightly from the steady breaths that were escaping from his.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he breathed, before planting her with a single, lingering kiss.

"Yes," Pansy answered, huskily. Yes, she knew exactly what she did to him, because he elicited the same reactions, and wants, and needs in her. Her hands tightened on their position on his back, which caused an unexpected groan to radiate from him, and she felt him inch even closer to her, as he allowed her another solitary, agonising kiss. _Oh, you tease._

"You make me feel like...I can barely breath," he whispered, before pressing his mouth on hers with such an unexpected pressure that Pansy was unable to stop herself from being the one to groan aloud this time. _You make me feel the same._

Their lips began to slowly move as one; she used her hands to pull him into her so he was pressed into her upper body, with no room left to maneuver, they were as one. The hand that was still fisting her hair loosened its grip and pressed into the area where her neck met the base of her scalp. Whilst his other hand, which had until now remained on her side, joined its counterpart, and began rubbing the side of her neck, paying close attention to the spot directly behind Pansy's left earlobe.

Time became abstract, as did every semblance of reality. All Pansy was aware of was that she put everything she had into kissing him - all the good and bad, all the stress, worry, and pain. She was still bristling with desire of course, but now there was more, or perhaps less, because in that kiss, everything around her ceased to exist. In that moment, kissing him was all at once neither the sun nor the storm, but both; and every breeze, raindrop, and snowflake that existed in between.

Eventually, they broke apart gasping, breathless and intoxicated with the mere presence of each other. Neville pressed his forehead against Pansy's, and for a few moments neither spoke, no sound present save for the settling of their laboured breathing.

"Woah," Neville said, eventually, as the pads of his thumbs stroked the back of Pansy's neck gently.

"Yeah," Pansy breathed, her voice raspy. Even though she was technically sitting, the Slytherin was fairly sure that if she were to let her grip on Neville's back loosen, she would topple sideways. "Was I worth the wait?" she added, teasingly, once her breath her steadied to something close to a normal rhythm.

Pansy felt the soft feel of his lips against her forehead. "Of course you were," he murmured, his words obscured slightly due to a number of delicate kisses he was currently placing upon her skin.

"Mmmmm," Pansy wrapped her arms and legs around him tightly; losing herself in his sturdy frame and the soft, fluttery kisses he was still trailing over the top of her face.

"Pansy." She heard Neville say, a few moments later. "I'm going to have to get back."

"No," Pansy answered simply.

Neville chuckled dryly at her response. "I have to."

"What could you possibly need to get back to, it's Friday night," Pansy asked, a tad sharper than she had intended.

"A…meeting...like...thing,"

"A meeting-like-thing," Pansy repeated, pulling most of her torso back in order to bring him into her view. "Is that code for your little resistance fighting club?"

"Yeah," and Pansy was momentarily taken aback by his honesty. "Friday nights are kind of a big deal, and whilst you have no idea how much I've _loved_ being here with you."

"I have some idea," Pansy quipped, smirking as she allowed her eyes to flicker briefly to Neville's crotch and back up to meet the blue of his eyes. She recalled how she had been very much able to feel just how much of a good time Neville was having during a rather large portion of their kissing.

He snorted. "But I've stayed too long already, I have no reason not to be there." He found each of her hands with his own, interlacing her fingers with his so that their palms were touching.

Pansy sighed, before eventually nodding in understanding. "I get it," she said.

He kissed her once more, it was lingering yet at the same time over far too soon. Pansy swallowed hard, knowing he was waiting for her cue to tell him to leave, and so with a heavy heart she forced herself to say the one word she would have paid a great deal of gold not to have to say at that moment. "Go."

Neville nodded and looked deep into her eyes before whispering a husky, "Goodnight." Turning to leave, she kept her right hand locked in his left and the pair crossed the empty classroom. Neville poked his head quickly out of the door, clearly assessing whether both directions were empty. He leaned into Pansy for one last, searing kiss, before disappearing from the room; an action she waited approximately one minute before replicating, dodging in the other direction, and began to make her way back to her dorm.

Pansy met no one on her journey back. She debated momentarily whether it would be worth making a detour to the dungeons to see Daphne and Millicent, or Theo, but from the numerous tellings that Pansy had been subjected to of Daphne and Blaise's sex life, and from what Pansy had come to understand of how Theo and Millicent were choosing to spend their evenings, as much as they, according to Daphne, were still denying their involvement to together, which, the more she thought of it, was particularly strange of Theo - and vowed to corner one of them soon to find out.

The dark-haired witch sighed and set off to her Friday night, which she was absolutely sure involved a half-drunk bottle of firewhisky, and Draco Malfoy. _Probably better to not leave him on his own, anyway._

* * *

Pansy walked briskly, her mind was buzzing with the purity of her recent happiness. And still as ever, her always-present - albeit right now - endorphin-dampened, worries but mostly with an entirely frustrating, and the overwhelming constant rush of missing him, _truly_ missing Neville.

Silently cursing Neville for daring to make her want him even more, Pansy arrived at the entrance to her rooms quicker than she had anticipated. The living room was dimly lit when she entered, and she was surprised to see, occupied; not just by a clearly intoxicated Draco, but by an equally intoxicated Theo.

"Pans!" Theo cried, his voice wobbly and his eyes, bloodshot. His arms had been flung open as he said her name, inviting her to him for a hug. Pansy sighed, shaking her head at the sight of her friend; Theo was lounging on her couch, his shaggy hair was scruffier than usual, and the dopey grin that was present on his handsome face was intoxicating.

Pansy laughed, before sinking down onto the sofa half next, and half on top of, Theo. She wasted no time in pressing herself into his torso, which, considering how downtrodden she had felt since she and Neville had parted ways not long before, turned out to be just what she needed.

"I miss this face," Theo slurred, elongating the last word as he scrunched Pansy's cheeks between his fingers.

"Ugh! Theo," Pansy snapped, her voice obscured from Theo's maddening grip, "get off my face!"

Theo dropped his hand, and wrapped it, along with his other arm, around Pansy once more. "Where've you been? _He,"_ Theo nodded his head sharply in Draco's direction, "wouldn't tell me, said it was ' _Pansy's business.'"_ He snorted, air quoting the last two words.

"Well, that's because it is _Pansy's business."_ Pansy shot Draco a look of gratitude. "Why are you so happy? Even drunk Theo isn't usually _this_ happy," she continued, observing the grin that was once again plastered on Theo's face, grateful to steer the conversation away from her mysterious whereabouts.

Theo brought his right index finger up, and placed it vertically over his lips. "Can you keep a secret?" he asked.

"Obviously."

"I'm in love," Theo replied, simply.

 _So am I_

"Oh?" Pansy answered, and Millicent's hopeful expression crossed her mind's eye. Theo had _loved_ a lot of girls in their time at Hogwarts, but never once had Pansy ever heard him say the words _in love_ together.

"Well, I'm very happy for you both," Pansy stated.

"You don't even know who it is!" Theo shot back, agast.

"Everyone knows who it is."

"Oh," Theo replied simply. "It's different this time," he swallowed, looking momentarily sober once more, "with Millie," he said her name with a remarkable amount of softness.

"Good, she deserves it," Pansy said. "Don't fuck it up, Theo."

"I'm trying. But, I wanted to talk to you."

Pansy's eyes widened a touch, why would Theo need to talk to her about Millicent? She shuffled in her seat, so that she could see Theo entirely. "Me?"

Theo's words were slurred but his eyes were steady as they bored into Pansy's. "She's...struggling."

"With?"

Theo's face dropped to his knees and his words, when they finally appeared, were whispered. "I don't think she thinks she can stand against her parents."

Pansy's eyes met Draco's momentarily. "Shit," she replied softly.

"Yeah, I don't really know how to...anytime I bring it up she kisses me and we…" he trailed off.

"Well, you could try and obtain some of what we sophisticated people called _self control_ ," Draco piped up.

Theo's face was now entirely within his hands, and he let out a muffled _argh_ at Draco's words. Lifting his face only slightly, he replied, "I know mate, but she gets so fucking upset about it. She doesn't want to talk to me, she wants to forget and I can't blame her for that, I...I can't."

Pansy swallowed. "No, I can't either, really," her thoughts briefly lost in how much she relished being able to just _forget_ in the moments she lost herself in Neville.

"Have you asked Daph to maybe talk to her?"

Theo looked up again, into Pansy's face. "I love Daph, I do," he began, "but she has as much tact as a hippogriff does when it decides it doesn't like Draco's face."

Pansy snorted, whilst Draco mumbled something about _that bloody bird,_ and replied, "That's true," she said fondly. "I can speak to Mills."

Theo nodded, "Thanks Pans, I know she doesn't think it's the same for me, my dad is a Death Eater, there's no grey areas there, but her parents - they're not _bad_ people, they're just choosing to support who they think will keep them alive, and she _gets_ that. Hell, even I can understand it."

"I'm not sure I'll be much help then," Pansy sighed, and proceeded to tell Theo the story of how she had learnt her father had become a fully fledged Death-Eater.

"Shit," Theo replied.

"Yeah, _shit,_ and I don't think I'd ever _be_ one of them, well, no, I _know_ I wouldn't, but if it wasn't for-" Pansy halted herself, mid-sentence.

"For what?" Theo's brow knitted together.

"Nothing."

"Not _what…_ " Draco interjected, much to Pansy's annoyance and she glared daggers at Draco whilst attempting to ignore a very curious Theo.

"Then...who? Is this to do with where you were earlier? Were you _with_ someone?"

"No one, nothing, shut up Theo!"

Theo spun his head around, his drunken gaze seeking out Draco. "Mate, who's Pans hooking up with?"

"Draco, I swear to Salazar, _do not_ answer him!" Pansy rounded on Draco, still furious.

Draco smirked and shrugged. "You're going to have to get _that_ out of her yourself."

 _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

"Who are you hooking up with?"

"No one!"

 _Well, that's not entirely a lie._

Theo's characteristic grin was now firmly in place. "Go on," he said, changing tact and nudging Pansy cheekily. "Tell me."

"Nope."

"Pansy, you look parched," Theo said, his intention unashamedly clear. "Have some whisky."

"Nice try."

"What?" he replied, feigning a look of innocent indignation. "You look like you need a drink. Your hair's a mess; sex hair, if ever I saw it."

"You have to have sex to have sex hair," Pansy stated, dryly.

"Fine, fine, wildly-getting-off-with-someone hair, then."

Pansy narrowed her eyes at Theo, but did not dispute his accusation.

"Ah-ha!"

"I'm still not telling you who."

"You're just being a bitch because you aren't getting any of the real good stuff."

Pansy narrowed her eyes, taking it in turns to glare at both Draco and Theo, in turn as her thoughts drifting momentarily back to the moment Neville had said he had to leave. "Touche," she grumbled, summoning a nearby glass and taking a long drink, her still thunderous expression daring Draco or Theo to say anything more. Which, granted, neither did, until they both, after staring at each other for a good thirty seconds, burst out laughing.

* * *

Theo had fallen asleep not long after, his tousled hair flopping over his closed eyes as he emitted a loud, continuous train of snores. Pansy found herself awkwardly squashed at his feet.

"So," Draco said, and it worryingly showed the extent of his drinking habit that the amount that floored and knocked out Theo, had virtually no effect on Draco. Pansy frowned, promising herself that she'd try harder to get him to cut down. "You have a good time?"

"I did," Pansy answered, honestly. Her brow furrowed as she thought hard about how to approach the subject she needed to speak of.

"So then, why do you look so bloody miserable?"

"I need your advice."

"I refuse to give you tips on how to seduce Longbottom."

 _Shut up, you moron!_

"Draco I...I need to get out of meeting Rabastan. You have to help me," she said, forcing her voice to stay level as she breathed deeply at the harsh plea resonating in her own words.

Draco sat forward in his chair, frowning. "The Lestranges don't fuck around," he said.

"I know," she replied, her voice quiet.

Draco did not speak for some time, his forehead had several horizontal lines rippling across it, and Pansy knew better than to disturb his delicate thought process. And so she waited, with Rabastan's words and Neville's touch chilling and comforting her, simultaneously.

"Okay," Draco said, finally. "You write him back, tell him you need to stay here over Christmas."

"That seems far too simple, he'll just ask the Carrows. Draco he could ask the Carrows _any_ time, and then he'll know I've lied," Pansy's voice rose into a hysteria that was so uncharacteristic, that Draco looked momentarily alarmed.

"Pans, calm down. The Carrows will tell him the same damn thing."

"How in the bloody fuck-"

"I'm going to use the Imperius Curse on them."

"You are not!" Pansy cried, crushed at his words. "They'll fight it-"

"-they're really fucking stupid, Pansy, I'm fairly sure they couldn't fight a blast-ended skrewt."

"Someone will notice!"

"They won't. I'll _just_ do it to make them say they're making you stay here, everything else, I'll just command them to act normally."

"Draco, that is really fucking risky."

"True."

"What if, you know, _he,_ notices," Pansy asked, a shudder overcoming her at the prospect of Voldemort working out Draco's actions.

"There's a chance," Draco admitted, "but a small one, the Carrows aren't exactly respected. I'm pretty sure the whole reason they were sent here was to get them out of his hair, not that he has any," he added, the hint of a smirk was present on his pale face as he did. "And I'm fairly confident I can hide the memory enough in case he decides to poke around in my head," he added with a grumble.

"What if it doesn't work? What if Rabastan still demands to see me?"

Again, Draco did not immediately respond; instead he studied her, intently.

"Then I find a way to get you out of here, away to somewhere he won't be able to touch you."

"Draco..."

"Don't fight me on this, Pansy."

And, for one of the only times in her life, she didn't.


End file.
